


Light in Winter's Blood

by LostintheFandom



Series: Barduil [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barely-There-Gore?, Good Dad Bard, Good Dad Thrandy, IceKing!Thranduil, Like I describe Gore but it's not explicit, M/M, Mirkwood Trash Squad, Not-Exactly-Gore, Vampire!Bard, Vampire!Bardlings, in their own ways, vampire!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostintheFandom/pseuds/LostintheFandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NEW SUMMARY!</p><p>Mirkwood, once known as Greenwood was a dark place. A vast realm of illusion and fear. Tall trees of winding branches and blackened bark loomed over all that passed. A recent home to dark creatures. And ironically enough a realm of elves, creatures to which light is sacred and the dark curse was a pollutant.</p><p>Mirkwood was also a hunting ground. A hunting ground for one of the most infamous creatures of darkness. The vampire. Or rather a vampire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretty Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Made because of this  
> http://lostinangbang.tumblr.com/post/120476215343/the-lonely-dwarf-lord-lostinthebarduil  
> I can't yet make links, somebody please teach me how.  
> Prompt from the-lonely-dwarf-lord  
> My Tumblr lostinangbang.tumblr.com
> 
> Enjoy!

Mirkwood, once known as Greenwood was a dark place. A vast realm of illusion and fear. Tall trees of winding branches and blackened bark loomed over all that passed. A recent home to dark creatures. And ironically enough a realm of elves, creatures to which light is sacred and the dark curse was a pollutant.

Mirkwood was also a hunting ground. A hunting ground for one of the most infamous creatures of darkness. The vampire. Or rather a vampire.

No one would’ve guessed of Bard’s abilities. No one would’ve assumed that Bard was capable of such ruthlessness. No one would’ve thought that Bard was strong enough to do what he did that night. Bard. Humble Bard. Kind Bard. Bard the bargeman, equally as poor as everyone else in Esgaroth.

Yet here he was. An elf was between him and a coarse tree. The poor creature barely twitching as its light dimmed out and it slumped to the ground unconscious. Bard took a step away from the body and licked his lips clean of blood as his fangs began to shrink. The elf would wake again in some hours and remember nothing. It was because of that that Bard hadn’t been caught yet. Elf blood was addictively sweet and aromatic, Bard was almost reluctant to allow his children to drink from elves, for they might get addicted too.

Bard turned to leave and make his way back to his barge only to be stopped. A large, white elk stood before him blocking his path. Its coat was white and almost seemed to emit light of its own. Its antlers were huge, branching off many times and ending with more points than Bard cared to count. Bard knew well of the impressive wildlife sheltered in the woodland, but had never seen an animal of such radiance… and such a sweet smell. It was truly a shame that Bard had already drank his fill.

“My, oh my. Aren’t you a pretty thing?” Bard said as he looked at the elk. His eyes were still in the process of changing from crimson to hazel, creating an eerie swirl of red, brown and green.

The elk merely twitched its ear and took a small step forward. Bard chuckled, “Not the brightest thing are you?” The elk snorted and shook its head almost as if in indignation at the insult, its formidable antlers moved with its head, almost intimidating. Almost. Bard smirked and looked the animal right in the eye.

The last thing the elk heard from the vampire was a, ”Boo!” before the man dispersed into a swarm of bats, which then flew towards it in a frenzy. The white beast let out a call in distress as it reared and bucked. Each bat masterfully avoiding, hooves and massive antlers as they flew past the scared animal, eventually disappearing between the trees. 

The elk soon calmed down with a huff. It stepped forth warily, as if waiting for more bats to swarm it. When that didn’t happen it walked more surely towards the fallen elf. It lowered its head and sniffed lightly at the elf’s face. The feel of light breaths from the elf seemed to both relieve and annoy the elk as it huffed more roughly in the elf’s face, blowing its hair back slightly. The elk lifted its head back up and stepped away from the elf. It spared one last glance at it before running deeper into the forest.

Bard was still grinning when his bats regrouped at the lake. What an intriguing beast that had been! He’d never seen it before! Nights were generally silent in Mirkwood, save for the occasional rustle and scuttle in the bushes, but no animal ever dared approach him.

Bard had a very convenient job. He ferried empty barrels between Laketown and Mirkwood. The barrels would then be transported from here to Dorwinion, filled with wine and brought back to the lake for Bard to take to the docks by the forest, unload the barrels and leave the rest to the elves. It was convenient, because barrels were scheduled to arrive before sunrise and to be dropped off at the same time. He only needed to feed every so often anyways.

Bard reached the barge just as the first barrel came around the bend. Hefting the wet wood was easy for him. As a vampire Bard was gifted with superior senses, specifically hearing and sight, he was also immensely strong, capable of crumbling stones and bending metal with his bare hands. The job took only as long as the barrels took to come.

Soon enough he was pushing off the dock and making for Laketown. Dark waters housing questionable food sources rippled around the wooden barge as Bard steadily eased it forth. Easily navigating the mists and avoiding the rocks to soon reach that which he called home. Barely a home, more a shelter than a place of comfort.

A rickety, wooden town, barely keeping above water. Home to poor, fearful people, whose only joy was each other. Barely kept from starvation by the rule of the Master, not that the greedy pig was trying to do anything to help the town. Shelter, jobs, food. The people were too demanding anyways, he would say as he drank his brandy dressed in warm clothes, sat before a table covered with food, counting his money.

Bard often found himself wondering why he still hadn’t killed the man and his lap dog, Alfrid. Then he would remember, it was because of his friends, the only things reminding him(unknowingly) that he used to be human, people like Percy, who kept the gate and Hilda who sitted the children when he was away for long. Killing the Master would bring fear, any who trusted Bard would be crushed by those who didn’t.

Bard instead dealt with everything and kept his nerves in check. He wouldn’t want to cause too much commotion in such a quiet, little place. The people didn’t deserve it.

He could wait.


	2. Snowy Eyes Turning Icy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has our realm not become a sanctuary for the dark… and the cold?”

The trek through the woodland was a swift one. Thin, agile legs carrying him over roots and fallen branches with ease. He knew his way around the forest well enough to go around with his eyes closed. As one would after living somewhere for over 5000 years.

Halfway home and he crossed paths with a patrol of elves. The troop of fifteen was quick to halt as they bowed their heads in respect. He inclined his antlered head in return, large ears flicking slightly as he looked over the group, relaxing a little as he saw a blonde elf by a redheaded one, at the head of the group.

After the brief exchange he leapt away in direction of his home.

Who was he? He was the one in possession of the woodland and all that resided in it. He was their protector. Their King. Their Woodland King.

He was Thranduil.

The guards of the palace gates knew that well enough and quickly opened the huge doors. He never knew how exactly he managed to fit his antlers through but he managed. He made his way through the castle, hooves clopping on the wood and stone that was the floors of the palace. 

He was easily noticed by servants and maids and they all rushed towards his chambers, opening doors, drawing baths and setting to fix breakfast. For the sun had barely risen and even so it was still plenty dark. Clouds had been hovering over the woodland and lake for the last few decades, not always raining, no, sometimes it was dry for months with only slight sprinkling showers.

Thranduil cared not. May nature do as she wished. His people were well, better than well actually. For the people of the lake he cared not, so long as barrels were ferried and wine was supplied how they fared was none of his concern.

The doors to the King’s chambers were already opened for him and a servant was waiting for him by the door with one of his silken shrouds in their arms. Thranduil stopped by the door and nodded his head in thanks as the servant settled the shroud over his elken shoulders.

The image of him shimmered and distorted as magic worked to turn the firm animal-esque body into that of a regal, elegant elf. Snowy fur turned into cascades of spun moonlight and golden threads. Yellow-grey doe-eyes turned into a half-lidded, icy-white gaze. He spared not a look more at the servant as he entered his chambers and silently shut the door.

He immediately made for his bathing chambers where water had already been heated and filled with bubbles and fine, flowery scents. A selection of expensive body oils had already been lined along the edge of the large tub. A bottle of Dorwinion wine and a silver goblet were placed within reach as well.

With practiced ease Thranduil removed the shroud and placed it upon a chair by his vanity table. He crossed the room in several steps and gracefully lowered himself into the tub, allowing heated water to relax his body and mind. Not much had happened on his fortnightly patrol, but what little had happened was most interesting. He easily filled his goblet with wine and brought it to his lips.

That hadn’t been his first meeting one of that kind, but this encounter was decidedly less unpleasant than the last. Who would’ve thought? Thranduil mused as he sipped his wine. That bargeman was one of them. Now at least he knew why his guardsmen and women kept being found unconscious in the forest.

That man- no, vampire was dangerous though, he needed to be contained. For the safety of his people. Much as they may whisper when they thought he cannot hear, they were still his subjects and it was his duty to protect them.

How long had it been since he last stood before a vampire. Ice cold against Ice cold. Thranduil chuckled. How similar those differences sounded and yet how, well different they were.

The sound of his chamber door opening brought him out of his musings. He listened as light footsteps approached the door to the bathing chambers.

Knock, knock.

“Enter.” His tone may have sounded cold, but in reality this was as warm as he dared sound, because this elf deserved it.

A blonde head peeked in and smiled gently. The elf stepped in, his blue gaze one of the only two that dared meet the King’s. “Good morning, ada.” He murmured as he stepped in and closed the door, performing a small bow before looking up again.

Legolas, his name was. Thranduilion, son of Thranduil that meant. Translated to common language his name meant Greenleaf, as decided by his late mother. Tall he was, not as tall as his father, no one was, but tall nonetheless. Swift with a bow and arrow, deadly graceful with his twin blades, agile on foot and equally among the branches. Moonlit gold-spun tresses like his father’s, only unlike his ada’s his were braided at the back to keep hair out of his eyes and twin braids just above his ears running down his shoulders, signifying prince-status.

“Good morning, ion.” Greeted Thranduil with a barely there smile and a nod of his head. “How was night patrol?”

“Uneventful until sunrise. With first light we discovered one of our soldiers, Aroilinon, unconscious in the forest. He-“

“I know, ion. I know.” Thranduil sighed as he set his now empty goblet down, Legolas almost impulsively moved to refill it. “It has become a common occurrence, has it not? Finding our men and women in such vulnerable position within their own realm.”

“I apologise, adar.” Legolas said as he looked away from his father’s eyes. “I will urge Tauriel to toughen the training regime and increase patrols. Whatever the threat may be we will-“

“I think you’ll be happy to know, Legolas that there will be no need for that.” Legolas looked up curiously, silently urging his father to continue. “On my patrol last night I encountered the one responsible.”

Legolas perked up at that. “Who?” It was a needless question, but one answered regardless.

“A vampire.”

Legolas tilted his head in surprise. Had it been anyone else saying that he would’ve laughed, but this was his father speaking. Such matters the King didn’t jest about. Legolas turned away as the King reached for one of the bottles of bathing oils ad stood up to wash his body. “How can that be?”

“Surely you didn’t believe those stories about them dying off in the Great Drought, ion.” The King chuckled as he lathed his body with sweet smelling scents.

Legolas shook his head. “No, ada.” He began, “I just never would’ve thought that a vampire of all creatures would come to reside near the woodland, Valar forbid within it.”

“Why not, ion?” Thranduil questioned, as he poured some oil in his cupped hand and then brought it up to his hair. “Has our realm not become a sanctuary for the dark… and the cold?” The last bit was muttered, but Legolas heard it regardless.

“It has indeed, ada.” Legolas said as he heard water sloshing in the tub as Thranduil lowered himself to rinse off the oils. “But it’s not always been so and it won’t continue on forever. The curse will be lifted, someday.” He stated as he moved to retrieve a large towel from the vanity. He handed it to his father as the King rose out of the water gracefully, receiving a ‘thank you’ in return.

“Indeed it hasn’t and it won’t, but as long as it is, we must defend ourselves against the darkness as we can and as we must.”

“And how do you suppose we will defend ourselves against this new threat?”

“The threat is far from new, ion.” The King said as he walked out of his bathing chambers and into his closet. Legolas followed him out, his ada’s shroud draped over one arm. “He has been around for a while, we only just discovered what he was now. That and I have faced his kind before, I’ve told you about it when you were little.”

Legolas remember alright, it had been one of his favourite stories. He remembered it in as much detail as his father had told. That included the creature’s downfall. Not death, it was already dead, but it had been weakened greatly and thus brought down by his father.

His father exited the closet dressed in fine silks and fabrics, the crown atop his head bearing the green leaves of summer. “I wish for you and Tauriel to select ten of your finest warriors. Be prepared to depart several hours before dawn on the morrow.”

“Who are we going after?”

Thranduil smirked, snowy eyes turning icy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there's the second chapter of this train-wreck-to-be.
> 
> Leave a comment or Kudos. Those are always appreciated.
> 
> I would also genuinely like to know how you are doing. How's your day been so far? Have the feels been treating you well in the fandom?


	3. Surrender and Force are strong words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew this would happen someday, it was bound to, but he would not be going down without a fight, he had to first teach his kids how to hunt and fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again!
> 
> Enjoy!

The next pre-dawn found Bard back at the mouth of the river awaiting the next shipment of barrels. He had no need for feeding at this time, for half an elf’s blood was enough to last him a week on average. He sat on the edge of his barge. Past the thick blanket of clouds he could just see the tell-tale signs of sunrise.

His eldest child, Sigrid always worried that his power of the clouds might be caused to falter for whatever reason. That the clouds might lift and his skin burn. She worried that he might be attacked by a wielder of silver weapons or bearer of silver armour.

Bard always found her worries unfounded. His power had wavered not for decades. He knew that when she spoke of attackers she meant elves, for mainly they used silver in battle. Dwarves preferred iron and gold, humans iron, steel and bronze. Even then in most battles elven armour was of generally gold, mithril and odd protective fabrics only elves made. Only their kings wore full silver armour and only the kings were skilled enough to hope to defeat Bard in a one-on-one battle. Even then the odds would be in Bard’s favour. The elves Bard had fought and defeated were skilled but not skilled enough. No need to worry.

Bain had never worried. The boy had utmost confidence in his father’s skill. Always asking for tales of the Woodland, descriptions of elves and their bows. The taste of their blood and of course when he will be allowed to hunt with his da. However if even Sigrid is not yet allowed then Bain has a while to wait.

The sound of a stick snapping in the forest drew Bard’s attention behind him. What could that be? Certainly no animal, for animals while stealthy to each other, were quite noisy. Not a human, no they were even noisier.

Bard stood up and silently made his way into the forest. Skilfully dodging rustly bushes and low branches, Bard neared the source of the noise. He swiftly climbed up a tree and settled on a branch overlooking a clearing, hidden in the shadows.

The vampire was quite surprised to find an elf in the clearing. They usually avoided areas where he had struck recently, keeping to the depths of the woodland and only nearing its edge in larger groups. This one was alone. He was quite a sight too. White-golden tresses and pale skin, wearing camouflaging armour, with a bow and quiver, and twin blades strapped to his back.

The elf simply stood there, as if awaiting company. Idly looking around, though Bard knew that he genuinely didn’t know of his position, but might be aware of his presence. His theory was proven right when the elf called out. “I know you’re here! Show yourself!”

The elf started as a swarm of bats flew from one side of the small clearing. Then again and again. All the while a dark chuckle floated around the space. Bard had noticed the hidden elves, but they didn’t need know that. Not yet at least. “You are quite a bold elf!” Called Bard from the crown of yet another tree.

“Have I not the right to be bold in my own realm?” Questioned the elf. Bard smirked as he flew down to stand directly before the elf. To the blonde’s credit, he barely flinched, but Bard saw the nervous flicker of his eyes towards his companions.

“You do indeed. Yet you are afraid.” Bard stated as he slowly circled the elf. “Of what I wonder. Is it of me?” Bard grinned exposing his still retracted fangs, as he seemed to disappear. The elf spun in a full circle, twin blades now held in his hands. As he felt a presence behind him and turned to strike only to meet with thin air, “Is it of what I can do?” A voice whispered in his ear, “Of what I have done?” The elf turned and faced Bard as the vampire took a step back.

“For what you have done you are to be brought before the King of the Woodland realm, so judgement may be served. Surrender now or force will be used.” Bard chuckled once more. He knew this would happen someday, it was bound to, but he would not be going down without a fight, he had to first teach his kids how to hunt and fight. Then he could take a vacation.

“Surrender and force are such strong words,” Bard began, as he noticed movement around him and caught the glint of arrows being notched. “Now if it was a dinner invitation,” He smirked, “I may have accepted.” And he was a swarm of bats once more, making a spin around the elf before slamming into him and sending him into a tree before he could react.

All Mordor broke loose.

The hidden elves revealed themselves brandishing swords and aiming arrows. It was all metal flashes and streaking arrows. Then one of his bats’ wings was nicked by an arrow and he was forced to land. The injured bat ended up being a part of his forearm and now there was a small gash there. He tried shifting back into his bats but was unable to. What?

Two elves quickly moved to restrain him, but were thrown off. It took more effort than it was supposed to. The blonde elf that he hit first was up and at it again as his twin blades moved dangerously close to Bard. The vampire dodged as quickly as he could but he seemed to only be getting slower. Another gash was delivered upon the same arm as before. That was when the drowsiness hit.

Most of the elves had now moved to form a circle around him, the blonde elf, and a redhaired one. Bard had now been reduced to swaying on one spot, preventing himself from falling. “W-what have you… done?” He breathed, “What poison is this?”

“It is of elvish make. Made with your kind in mind.” Answered the blond one with a slightly condescending look.

“Heh I feel special.” Mumbled Bard as he was lightly shoved in a direction away from the lake. These elves arrogant as they were, were mindful of keeping him upright. For that he was slightly grateful. Only slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was this?


	4. the King of the Woodland Realm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard could sense power within the king, greater and more dangerous than the average magic all elves possessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again...

Bard is lead through the fairly familiar forest by a set of firm hands on either arm. The shadows bothered him not, the illusions tickled his senses but did not much more. The scent of oak was slightly over powered by that of stale air. No wind could blow far into the woodland to freshen the air.

Before long Bard dazedly found himself being lead across a thin bridge over a raging river. Tall gates opened before the troop of elves and vampire. They walked through and entered a cave turned into a palace. Tall pillars of living stone supported the ceiling and decorated the arches. Long, thick roots sung into shape by the old elves stretched and curved into a path over mossy rocks, small bushes and silent streams.

A long root lead towards a large platform, upon which sat a wooden throne with large carved wooden antlers cresting above it. Upon it sat what could only be the woodland king, for even dazed as he was Bard could still sense the regality that the King emitted. Draped in silken robes, threaded with gold. Silver rings adorned his fingers, a crown of light wood and summer leaves curled around his head. Bard could sense power within the king, greater and more dangerous than the average magic all elves possessed. Bard knew when to show confidence and when to tread softly and thank goodness for that too.

Bard was thrown before the Eleven King, weak and disoriented. Head bowed and back tense, he awaited his fate. Bard looked around noticing all the elves were staring at their feet, the ones who were looking towards their king were avoiding his eyes. The vampire cautiously lifted his head and peered into gleaming, white eyes. Bard gasped and lowers his head.

Thranduil clicked his fingers, beckoning an elf forward. Hushed whispers spread around the company of archers. Their heads pressed together, frowning at the man on the floor.

“What is your name, vampire?” The King’s voice boomed, hushing all conversation, but his own.

“Bard,” was his short and curt reply. No more than was necessary

“Look at me.” The king commanded, his voice cold as his eyes had been.

Bard slowly lifted his head once again, focusing on the Ice King. The elf next to the throne shook his head, his confusion evident on his face. How dares this creature look into the eyes of the king? Thranduil’s brow lowers slightly.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are the King of the Woodland Realm, my Lord.” Who wouldn’t know who he was?

“Do you know what people whisper? What they call me when my back is turned?”

“The Ice King.” Bard found himself lowering his eyes.

“Correct.” Thranduil stood graciously, barely making a sound. He slowly made his way down the steps leading to his throne. “Do you know why they call me Ice King?”

“They believe you have a cold heart and eyes as white as snow.” Bard snorted softly. He was still kneeling on the floor, his energy non-existent.

Thranduil nodded. “Also correct. But, elf slayer, they believe my eyes can turn even the most strongest of willed men to ice.”

Bard felt the air shift. Thranduil was stood in front of him. “That’s impossible.”

“This pouring from the mouth of a creature from Myths and Legends.” The King sounded amused. 

“I apologise.” The vampire mumbled. “It’s just that it’s hard to believe, my Lord.” Bard risked looking towards the King, his neck having to stretch to look up at Thranduil’s face. He had been foolish to once dismiss the tales of the Ice King, it would be foolish to completely dismiss anything really, especially if one lives in a world of magic. The king seemed to think, however that Bard needed a demonstration as further proof.

Thranduil hummed and as quick as a flash, he head shot up and his eyes connect with one of his guard. Before Bard’s eyes, the elf gradually froze. First his legs, travelling up his torso and lastly his face. With a click of Thranduil’s fingers, the guard was back to his normal state, except for a few ice chips, clinging to his long hair. The elf seemed shaken and while Bard was rarely one to openly show sympathy, he made an exception this one time.

“What I don’t understand, vampire,” The king spoke again, “Is how you are immune to my power.” The two connected eyes for a moment, before Thranduil twirled around. He made his way back to his throne, he dismissed the elves surrounding, bar the ones who held Bard.

“Place him in the cells.” The King ordered, not even looking back at Bard or his subjects, “I will need him later. Make sure he cannot escape.”

Bard was again grabbed by the arms and hauled upright. Thankfully he was kept steady by the elves as he was pushed along the same path and soon down a hall towards the dungeons of the woodland realm. He had always wanted to visit the halls of the woodland king, just not quite in this manner.

He was pushed into a cell by two elves and dazedly watched as the door was locked. He laid down on a stone bench inside his cell. He closed his eyes and waited to regain his senses, but also to think on his latest predicament. The poison currently within him must be very powerful to have rendered him so useless, more than likely potent enough to kill an ordinary man within minutes. He must’ve looked so pathetic, kneeling and weak. He hated showing such submissive behaviour, but it was for the best.

Now that he is sure that he wouldn’t be killed within the next few hours he must think of a way to get back home. Who knows what the kids could do to Alfrid if he oversteps his boundaries. As much as Bard would love to set the on the snivelling man, he wouldn’t want all of Esgaroth to go after their heads.

He sighed deeply. Maybe closing his eyes wasn’t such a good idea. The slumber was calling to him and the rest might last as long as the poison takes to evaporate from his body. That could take from several hours to a whole day or two. He can’t afford that long… 

He… 

Can’t…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well? Any thoughts? Anything at all...


	5. Disturbance in Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And what do you suppose we do? Wait until news of our dead da reaches our ears?” Tilda gasped and Sigrid gave her brother a look.
> 
> “Have you that little faith in our da?”
> 
> Bain quickly backtracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!

“Da’s late.” Sigrid looked up from where she was cutting up some fish to make soup for lunch and turned to look at Tilda. She was sitting on one of the chairs at the table hugging her teddy bear uncertainly. “Will he be okay? He’s never late.”

Sigrid looked out the window. The clouds were still holding strong, a bit uneven here and there but no big deal, “He’ll be fine. The barrels were probably delayed.”

“Are you sure?” Sigrid smiled softly at her sister. The poor thing showed such confidence in her da until the smallest disturbance in routine.

“I’m sure.” She turned back to the cutting board and Tilda kept playing with her teddy.

Sigrid was slightly worried though. Da would normally be back by late morning, noon at the latest. What if Alfrid noticed? What if the Master noticed? Was Bain okay? He had just gotten an apprenticeship with the blacksmith. He was so happy when old Kartan had agreed to teach him. She would discuss the problem with her siblings if their da still wasn’t home by the time Bain got home. She nodded to herself, yes that was the smart choice of action.

The lack of direct sunlight barely affected the daily routines of the people of the lake. Their lives were still as monotonous as ever in the poor wooden town. Get up, eat, do work, eat, do more work, eat again, go to sleep. Day in, day out. No weekends, no breaks unless one was heavily pregnant, violently sick or with two or more broken limbs. It was the sad truth of the lake, one must make do to pay due. Even though the only one who owed anything to anyone was the master himself.

So the day wore on. The sun dragged itself behind the clouds unnoticed and unmentioned by the people. Sigrid and Tilda steadily grew more and more worried as they tended their chores. An hour before sunset, when everyone began to prepare for the night, Bain came home. The girls were quite relieved to see him, but the air was still tense.

“Where’s da?” Bain looked very confused. It wasn’t like their da to miss dinner, even though he rarely actually ate.

“We don’t know!” Cried Tilda first. She looked so distressed and her sister shared an equal amount of worry in her eyes. Bain was thoroughly alarmed by now.

“Has he not come back?”

“No!” Sniffed Tilda as Sigrid leant down to hug her. Sigrid carried on for her sister, “He’s been gone all day. “

They all sat at the table where four bowls, silverware and a pot of soup had been placed, the same soup the girls had for lunch. “We should look for him!” Stated Bain after several moments of silence. Tilda looked ready to agree before Sigrid spoke.

“We should not.” At Bain’s confused glance she elaborated, “Da wouldn’t want us to put ourselves at risk.”

“And what do you suppose we do? Wait until news of our dead da reaches our ears?” Tilda gasped and Sigrid gave her brother a look.

“Have you that little faith in our da?”

Bain quickly backtracked, “No! What I’m trying to say is that whatever’s been holding him back has kept him for a while and he might be in trouble!”

“Exactly! If something is strong enough to delay our da for over twelve hours, then it may very well be strong enough to seriously harm us.” Sigrid’s steady voice said, “If we are to help da, then we are to begin by not causing more trouble.”

“Why are we even discussing this if we are only to decide to not do anything?” Grumbled Bain and Sigrid could only roll her eyes.

“To ensure that ideas such as ‘We should look for him!’ don’t become a reality.”

…

Bard’s eyes opened to the sound of concerned murmuring and stomping boots. He sat up slowly and looked beyond the door of his cell where several elves ran by. One stopped and spoke with Bard’s cell guard in a language Bard didn’t understand. The guard sent an uncertain look at Bard, who merely raised an eyebrow at him, before turning back to the other elves and rushing off with them. Something worrying must be happening and it was eating him up on the inside not knowing what it was.

Soon the dungeons were empty save for him and the indoor waterfall which fell down the middle of the dungeon. Bard stepped over to the bars. He could feel power coursing through the metal, Light Magic the counter of his origins. He could still feel the poison in his bloodstream, the slumber must have not lasted long, several hours at most. He was still weak, not as helpless as before, but he would not be able to overpower the strengthened metal yet.

He sat back down on the cot and closed his eyes once more. He attempted to extend his senses beyond the dungeon. He tried to smell anything other than wet rock and fresh water, hear something other than the thundering waterfall. Yet all he got was a dull aroma of flowers and distant, muffled voices. He wished to know what exactly the elves put in the potion they took him down with. He wished to know their weaknesses.

A sharp screech brought him out of his musings. Had any elves been in the vicinity they’d have been alarmed, fortunately there weren’t. Bard released a low hum from deep in his chest as he heard the flap of a small pair of wings. He looked down as a small, black, furry bat landed in front of his cell and then crawled between the bars.

Bard put down a hand for the bat to crawl onto. Its little claws clung onto his skin as he raised his hand, but he didn’t mind. Bard had many bats living in the forest to warn him of potential threats, he wasn’t expecting any of them to manage to find him whilst locked in a dungeon. “What news do you bring?” He spoke gently and lowly, minding its sensitive ears. The bat seemed to appreciate the sentiment as it released a tiny coo, before giving a series of squeaks and more coos. “Spiders? So that’s what’s got them in such a frenzy.” He petted the small animal’s back for a while before speaking again, “I need you to do me a favour.” The creature looked at him with interest, “I need you to find Sigrid, Bain and Tilda and inform them of where I am. Do tell them not to come after me though. I’ll be back soon enough. Tell them that if anyone asks I am on an extended hunting trip.” He gave it a final stroke on the back before fitting his hand between the bars, “Go now, friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...


	6. Not That Bad for a Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The King wishes to speak with you. You are to come without resistance, fighting will be useless.” The elf was curt and sharp. Bard could see the hilts of likely poisoned daggers in each of their belts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm...

Several hours more had passed and it was again the wee hours of the morning. The dungeons had cooled and the halls were silent. With no other prisoners and no guards in the dungeon (Bard still couldn’t break the bars), the silence was only disturbed by the thunderous waterfall which seemed even louder now.

The venom had mostly worn off by now. Weakness still lingered and he couldn’t shapeshift still, but at least he could now walk without the need of support and his senses were returning. Just in time as well. The elves had returned from battle, if those eight-legged beasts could be considered worthy opponents, and he could hear them marching through the halls.

A small group of five elves soon came to stand before Bard’s cell. He looked up from where he was sitting on the cot, straightening his back, “How may I help you?” He said cheekily. If the elves were affected by his cheek they didn’t show it.

“The King wishes to speak with you. You are to come without resistance, fighting will be useless.” The elf was curt and sharp. Bard could see the hilts of likely poisoned daggers in each of their belts.

Bard nodded and stood up, stepping out of the now unlocked cell and standing between the guards. The six of them steadily made their way to wherever they were going. Bard took advantage of the lack of dizziness and looked around the firelit hallways. He wondered how much it would take to get the guards to talk to him.

“I must hand it to you,” He began, noticing how their eyes flickered to him, “The way this place has been decorated is marvellous! Were these pillars hand-carved or is the stone truly living as the tales say? What of that pattern on the wall? That must’ve been carved. How long did it take? Was only one elf working on it or many? Those wooden over-paths in the throne room. Did they conveniently grow in such good position or can the elves really sing trees into shape? Come on, mate speak to me!”

Finally, a breakthrough, “Mate?” Asked one of the elves. Likely a younger one judging by how the others glared at him, but they also were interested in Bard’s choice of words. He had hazel eyes and red-golden hair, he was a little shorter than Bard.

“Yes. It’s what you would call a friend or an acquaintance or someone that you don’t know the name of, generally used to address males.”

The young elf hummed thoughtfully, “Mate has a different meaning to us.” He spoke softly. “To us it usually is short for Soulmate.”

“It can mean the same for humans –and vampires- as well, I mean that’s how it’s written in the dictionary. But we don’t refer to our lovers as mates.”

“How do you then?” The other elves were no longer glaring suspiciously, but they were keeping an eye and ear out to the pair.

“We have a number of endearments and everyone uses a different one. For example, ‘love’, ‘lover’, ‘darling’, ‘dear’, ‘honey’, ‘sugar’, ‘sweetheart’ and such and such. You’d be surprised at how many of our endearments stem from childhood nicknames.”

“Huh, interesting. What is your name?”

“Bard.”

The elf chuckled, “Like a poet.”

Bard in turn smiled, “I don’t really indulge in poetry. What is your name?” the other elves turned in alarm, but the young one was quick to answer.

“Meludir.” One of the elves hissed something at the young one in elvish, it looked as if they were scolding him. After maybe a minute of heated debate, the older elf huffed and urged the group on. He looked rather sour, whilst Meludir followed with a smug little grin. Bard raised an amused brow.

“What was that about?” He asked.

Meludir grinned at him, “That’s Feren. He is kind of huffy about sharing names with others.” Another huff was heard from the mentioned elf. Another chuckle from the pair. “You’re not that bad for a vampire.”

Bard smiled, “Have you ever met any other vampires?”

Meludir shook his head, “No but I’ve heard tales. Great battles against bloodthirsty beasts.” Bard raised a brow yet again, “I had assumed that all vampires were the same.”

“Surprised?”

“A bit.” Meludir looked like he was about to say more when, Feren interrupted.

“We’re here.” The elf gave a look to Meludir that spoke volumes of ‘We will be talking about this later.’

Bard looked at the large, carved wooden door. “Where? This is not the throne room, if my memory is not failing me?”

“Behind these doors are the King’s chambers. He’d requested a private audience with you, elf-slayer.” Feren grunted out the last word with resentment, huffing once more when Meludir elbowed him.

“I feel appreciated.”

“Good to know.” Sniffed Feren as he knocked on the door. A clear ‘Enter’ was heard from within the room, no doubt the king had heard them speaking. The elf opened the door and gestured for Bard to enter. So Bard did. Swiftly shutting the door in Feren’s face and hearing Meludir snort in laughter.

An amused smirk was situated on the elvenking’s face when Bard faced him. “You should show more respect to my guards.”

“Your guards should show more respect to those whom are in the middle of a conversation.” Bard snarked back.

Thranduil arched an eyebrow, “You should not have been conversing with them in the first place.” The king moved to a table close to Bard and poured two goblets of wine.

Bard shook his head when offered a goblet, “It’s not recommended to drink and fly, your majesty. A wisdom long since drilled into my kind’s minds. If I may,” Bard, cheeky as he was, knew how to play safe, “Why do you require my presence?”

“I merely wish to ask you a few questions.” The elf sat in a chair by the table and gestured to another one, “Take a seat.” Bard sat down without comment or complaint. “Now I know why you have chosen my forest as a hunting ground, but I would like to know why you have chosen my elves as a source of food.”

Bard hummed thoughtfully, “I feel the need to say that I didn’t plan for elves to become my primary food source that was partially unintentional.”

“How so?”

“Well I usually drink only animal blood but on that day there seemed to be not a beast to be found. I soon saw that that was because of a pack of spiders. Then a group of elves arrived and dispatched the beasts and spread out to search for stragglers. I honestly couldn’t help it, I was too hungry and their blood smelled too sweet, my mind clouded and my instinct took over. When I was sated the elf was near dead, but I let them live.”

Thranduil hummed and took a sip of wine, all too aware of how Bard’s eyes followed the line of his throat, “Why did you let them live? You could've killed them. Hidden them where they’d never be found.”

Bard looked at the King for a few moments and his stare was matched evenly, “Would you rather I did?” Thranduil remained quiet, “Would you that I ended the lives you elves value so highly?” Silence. Bard sighed, “Vampires that didn't fully succumb know the values creatures place on lives. I know that an elven life is near sacred and I respect that. To end an immortal life is an act only the darkest would take pleasure in.”

Thranduil regarded him stoically, his icy eyes seemed to yet again try to affect him, but they couldn’t. “Surely the animals must’ve come back once the spiders were driven off. Why did you keep attacking elves, elf-slayer.”

“Elven blood is… different from others. It… it’s…” Bard struggled for the correct words, “It keeps me sated longer, it tastes… better in many ways. It’s addictive.” As Bard spoke of elven red, his senses got stronger as the venom wore off more. He could hear Thranduil’s silent breath, he could see the slight shift of skin where his pulse beat ‘neath his jaw. So very tempting, but Bard was full. The elf he drank from not two days before keeping his thirst at bay, as it would for another half-moon. He could feel his power returning. His speed was probably nearly what it was before and his ability to shift had likely returned.

He could easily run away, but at the same time he couldn’t. It was too risky. The first place they would look for him would be Esgaroth, where they would easily be pointed to his house. He couldn’t have that.

“What if we made a deal, elf-slayer.” It was not a question.

Bard seemed intrigued, “A deal?”

“Yes,” Thranduil now stood up and walked across the room to where the pool of water was. “A deal.” He took off his shroud and placed it on a hanger. “You become my ally, I offer you protection and refuge in my halls if ever needed and in return you cease feasting on my elves.” He looked at Bard pointedly.

Bard was surprised at the offer. Yes, he could easily see the benefits, but, “Why would it not be easier for all if you just killed me?”

“It would.” Answered Thranduil almost nonchalantly, “But a creature as powerful as yourself and immune to my power is best to have either on your side or dead. I will have you by my side if I can.”

Bard seemed to consider the offer for a moment, even though they both knew that he would agree, “Very well. However there is one small problem.”

“And that would be what?”

“I cannot stop drinking elven blood.” Thranduil raised a brow, yet _again_ , “My body is too accustomed to elvish blood, and if I stopped I’d be too weak to help in any sort of battle, attack, raid or war that may occur in the next century, while my body adjusts to less nutrient food sources. If I am to keep my strength I must drink elvish blood.”

Thranduil considered this for a few moments. In those few moments Bard grew increasingly nervous (something he wasn’t used to). What if the king decided he was more trouble than he was worth? He had kids to take care of for Valar’s sake!

“Then you shall drink from me.”

“Beg your pardon?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh...


	7. Trust in my Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, I do not feel fear or doubt in his presence. However I do understand why others might. You must also understand however that despite his… attributes he is an honourable, fair and noble King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back...
> 
> Yay?

“You shall drink my blood,” Bard still looked shocked, “I refuse to lose a powerful ally and I refuse to let harm come to my elves. What say you?” Thranduil looked expectantly at Bard.

Bard mulled over it for a second even though he already knew his answer, “I accept.”

Thranduil smirked, “Excellent. I shall expect your visit when this moon reaches its third quarter.” So two weeks from now. “Galion!”

An elf entered the room not a moment later, he was likely stationed outside the room. He didn’t look the king in the eyes and kept his head lowered respectfully, “Yes, My King.”

“Would you show Bard here to the main gate, please?” It wasn’t much of a question and the three of them knew it.

“Yes, My King,” Galion raised his head to Bard, “If you would follow me please,” Once Bard stepped towards him he turned and smoothly walked out the door.

They walked in silence, Galion didn’t seem like the talkative type. But Bard attempted a conversation anyways. “Your King,” He began, continuing when he saw that he had the elf’s attention, “Is quite terrifying, I must say.”

Galion tilted his head slightly, “I suppose he does give off that impression.” 

Bard hummed, “Impression? Do you not feel wary of him?” 

“Master Vampire, I was the one to change the King’s diapers when he was a child,” He chuckled as Bard gaped, “But let that remain between us. No, I do not feel fear or doubt in his presence. However I do understand why others might. You must also understand however that despite his… attributes he is an honourable, fair and noble King.”

Bard shook his head, “I never thought otherwise. I couldn’t help but assume that he was a bit of a shady character from our first meeting, though.”

Galion raised a brow, “Shady?”

“You know… Suspicious.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,”

The rest of the walk carried on in silence. At one point they walked past the prince who was heading in the direction they were coming from. Bard and Legolas exchanged a smirk and a glare respectively, meanwhile Galion chuckled piecing together what may be the cause of their exchange. At the main gate Bard said his goodbye to Galion and nodded to the guards who warily nodded back. To their surprise, as they hadn’t been there when the vampire was captured he burst into a swarm of bats. He circled them once and flew off into the trees.

…

Legolas narrowed his eyes as he watched the swarm of bats fly off from one of the balconies. He didn’t like the creature. He didn’t understand it. How it could be dead but alive at the same time? Immortal but human. He didn’t like not understanding.

“Ion?” Legolas was pulled out of his musings.

“Yes, Ada?”

“What are you up to,” Thranduil approached his son, “You seem distraught,” Observed the king.

Legolas frowned at his father, “Why did you let him go? He is a threat to our people.”

“Ah,” Thranduil looked over the forest, “But he is also a threat to our enemies.” 

His son looked up at him, “What have you done?” 

Thranduil smirked, “I have forged an alliance,” He stated.

“But at what cost?”

Thranduil gazed slightly scoldingly at his son, “It is not up to you to question my decisions.”

Legolas looked away, “I apologize, Ada.”

They stood on the balcony in silence for the next short while, until the king sighed, “Have faith in me, ion-nin.”

“I do, ada.”

“Our alliance,” Legolas perked up, “Ensures that he will not harm any of my elves.”

_My elves._

“But what of you?” 

Thranduil smirked again, “What of me?”

“You said “Of my elves” rather than of “us”. Why?”

“What a bright child I’ve raised,” Spoke Thranduil, “No, I did not include myself, however that does not mean that I will necessarily be harmed.” Legolas tilted his head, “I have offered my blood in exchange for his loyalty.” As Legolas was about to protest he continued, “This is the end of this discussion.”

Legolas hung his head, “Yes, ada.” A hand was placed on his shoulder and he looked up into his father’s eyes, he found them beautiful.

“Trust my decisions, ion.” The king left. Legolas sighed, he gazed over the forest, before deciding to go to the training area and sweat off some of his frustration.

As he stepped outside to the training sites, he could only hear the sound of one other elf, along with the dull thunks of arrows hitting a target. He stepped around the corner and saw an elf he knew to be Meludir. He was young and had only recently joined the patrol. His aim was sure but only a tid-bit off. As he shot off another arrow it landed in the smaller red circle surrounding the two yellow centre circles, as had all of his other arrows. Legolas could almost hear his frustration as he sighed. “Having trouble?” He asked and smirked as Meludir started.

“My prince,” Gasped Meludir as he hurried to bow.

Legolas chuckled, “None of that here.” Meludir stood straight, “Now, what’s the problem?” He looked at Meludir’s target.

Meludir flushed in embarrassment, “I can’t hit the bull’s-eye,” He admitted sheepishly.

“Let’s change that then.”

“Wha-“

“Aim.”

Meludir hurried to obey and swiftly took his stance, but he didn’t shoot. He began to chew his lip nervously as the prince circled him, he almost panicked as Legolas walked in front of him, and worrying that in his anxiety he would accidentally loose the arrow. Sweat began to form on his forehead as Legolas stood directly behind him.

Legolas nodded to himself as he observed Meludir. His posture was nearly perfect and only a few small corrections were needed. He stepped closer to the shorter elf, his chest brushing against the younger’s back. He used his right leg to push Meludir’s closer in and lightly tugged his elbow a tiny bit down. The other’s shiver didn’t escape him, he leaned down to Meludir’s ear and whispered, “Now let it go.”

Meludir held back his shudder and let go of the arrow with bated breath.

_Thunk._

Bull’s-Eye.

“Well done,” Murmured Legolas as he stepped away, smiling.

Meludir nervously smiled back, “Thank you, my prince.”

“It was no problem,” Legolas had planned to train for a while but now he had better plans, “Would you care to join me for lunch?”

“Yes, of course.”

Behind the corner from which the prince had come stood Tauriel and Feren. Tauriel smirked at the other, “Pay up, Legolas noticed him within a month.”

Feren begrudgingly handed her several gold pieces, “The boy is as oblivious as the humans sometimes, how was I meant to know he would choose now to be less oblivious…” He grumbled as he stalked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have recently (not so recently) started shipping Legolas and Meludir, so exqueues me...


	8. My Sweet, Little Bloodflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard lead them over to the dining table where they all sat down with Tilda in his lap, “I was captured,” He began mysteriously and Bain and Tilda listened intently meanwhile Sigrid rolled her eyes at the dramatization, “By elves.” His children gasped, “Yes, elves. At first there was only one but he was no match for your da!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive! Yay! Happiness and confetti!

“Da! You’re back!” Bard was assaulted with hugs the moment he stepped into his house. The held his children close for a long time. If this was what it would be like without them for a day then he didn’t want to imagine what it’d be like when they grow up.

“What happened, da?” Sigrid said finally, “Why were you away so long?”

Bard lead them over to the dining table where they all sat down with Tilda in his lap, “I was captured,” He began mysteriously and Bain and Tilda listened intently meanwhile Sigrid rolled her eyes at the dramatization, “By elves.” His children gasped, “Yes, elves. At first there was only one but he was no match for your da! Then suddenly, ten more jumped from the trees,” Tilda gasped and Bain leaned forward in his seat, “The battle was ferocious! Dare I say I was winning, but then,” He shook his head grimly. 

Tilda shook with anticipation, “Then what? What happened!?” 

“Calm down, love, I was getting to it.” Tilda pouted and Bard kissed her forehead, “They poisoned me,” Gasps were heard from his kids, “Just a small cut to one of my wings and the battle was lost. They took me to their king.”

“You met the Elvenking, da?” Sigrid said in awe, “Are the tales true?” Not a person in Esgaroth was unaware of the stories of the Ice-King, whether they thought them untrue or not wasn’t the point.

“Aye,” Bard nodded, “I saw it with my own eyes. He froze and unfroze one of his own, just by looking at them.” Bain grinned, thinking how cool it must’ve looked, “Then he locked eyes with me, he stared me down, his eyes were white as snow,” He slowly began leaning over Tilda, increasing the suspense, “I felt a chill go down my spine, but then nothing happened.”

Bain tilted his head in confusion, “What? What do you mean ‘Nothing happened’?”

“Just that. His powers didn’t work on me.” Bard grinned, “I was special.” He said gooey-ly.

Sigrid rolled her eyes at his immaturity, “What then?”

“Well,” Bard cleared his throat, “I don’t remember it all that well, but he must’ve been angered because I remember being thrown in his dungeons.”

“Do you remember anything useful?” Prodded Sigrid. She didn’t mean to be pushy but it’s good to know if her da had given the elves a reason to hunt them down.

“We formed an alliance.” Bard said simply. Sigrid nodded, “Oh, that’s not too ba- Wait!” Sigrid, Bain and even Tilda looked at Bard as though he’d finally lost (what little he’d had of) it.

“He invited me to his chambers and then he offered his protection in return for my loyalty. I'm also going to have to visit every couple of weeks.” Bard smiled.

Bain was curious, “What exactly do the terms of your alliance entail.”

Bard fondly ruffled his hair, “Don’t worry yourself with that. Not yet. The good thing is that should The Master or Alfrid anything stupid killing them won’t be my only option.” He hugged Tilda tightly and looked at Sigrid, “Now my sweet, little Bloodflower,” Sigrid huffed but smiled at the nickname, “What’s for dinner?”

…

I the dining hall of the Elvenking were several long tables, each could fit fifty elves on either side. Only one table was used that evening. At the head of the middle table sat the king himself. On his right was his son, Legolas and on his right was the Captain of his guard Tauriel. The rest of the table was occupied by the other members of the guard. In fact just three seats from Tauriel and next to Eredhon sat the centre of the Prince’s attention, Meludir.

As dinner was served both young elves took to stealing glances at one another when the other wasn’t looking. Their behaviour was noticed by all of the occupants of the table, though it was nearly missed by the king whose mind was on another matter. A very ruggedly, handsome matter.

None of his thoughts showed on his face however as he had a reputation to keep. Instead he managed an idle conversation with Tauriel and Galion, figuring that his son was too out of it to focus on a conversation at the moment. He discussed his exchange with the vampire with the other two. Galion took it rather well, but Tauriel took a little convincing. Of course he hadn’t told her about his promise of blood, if he had then she’d have raised hell.

Eventually Galion and Tauriel broke off in a conversation of their own and Thranduil took to observing his son more closely. The blond had a far off, slightly tense look on his face as he poked at his food, occasionally sneaking glances across the table. He raised a brow at his son and Legolas as though feeling his father’s gaze looked up. Thranduil smirked a little and looked to where Legolas had been looking.

Meludir was a nice, young ellon, in Thranduil’s opinion. He was well and truly coddled by his team, being the youngest of the lot and Thranduil was glad to note that the youngster hadn’t let it get to his head. If Legolas was showing interest in the youngster then Thranduil would have to speak to the both of them soon.

Legolas’ ears turned red as he fought down a blush as he noticed where his father had been looking. Thranduil smirked more. Legolas looked back down and began shoving salad in his mouth. Tauriel and Galion chuckled at the exchange, wondering if they should inform the King of what had occurred in the archery fields.

Dinner was soon finished and most made their way to retire for the night. Except for Tauriel who went to the briefing chamber with several other elves to brief them for their night patrol and Galion who went sort out any final duties he had for the day. Legolas and his father departed together as their chambers were in the same wing of the palace. The King noticing the longing look Meludir had sent his son before they rounded a corner, while Legolas remained oblivious.

“Well, ion?” He began, “What happened at dinner?”

Legolas hummed noncommittally, “What do you mean, ada?”

“That young ellon, what was his name? Milandir?”

“Meludir.” Legolas corrected softly.

Thranduil smirked, “Ah, Lovely One.”

“Pardon?” Said Legolas with jealousy barely concealed in his voice. His father wouldn’t dare-

“Is that not the meaning of his name, ion?” Thranduil chuckled at his son’s flushed face. Legolas nodded, “You are fond of him.”

“Yes.” Said the prince cautiously.

Thranduil gazed at his son seriously as they stopped in front of his chamber doors, “He is young, ion. Inexperienced and naïve, likely. Barely two centuries past his majority.”

“Please, ada,” Legolas said firmly, “Do not deny me this chance at joy.”

Thranduil shook his head, “I deny you nothing. Just a word of caution if you would,” He said smoothly, “As I said, he is young and from what I’ve seen of him, loyal to a fault. Be sure that he is not agreeing with you just to please you. Teach him to speak for himself.” His eyes glowed in the dark as he leaned in and kissed his son’s forehead gently, “Treat him right for I’ve heard his brothers are fiercely protective.”

Legolas perked up, “He has brothers?”

Thranduil tsked, “I forbid a polygamous relationship.” He teased.

“I did not mean it in such a manner, ada.” He said with a smile, “I’ve never seen or heard of his brothers.”

“You’ve met with them, though I’m sure you weren’t aware of their relation. He has two brothers one in Imladris and another in Lothlorien.” Legolas was still confused, “I am sure you’ve met Lindir, but not so much about Legandir.”

Legolas frowned in confusion once more, “Lindir? Fiercely protective? Fierce is the last word I’d use for Lindir, ada.”

“Love for one will go a long way, ”Thranduil said, “Lindir is the eldest of the three at nearly two millennia and Legandir is nearly a thousand years old. Meludir is just two-hundred and fifty-six. Their father died while on patrol in Imladris and their mother sailed soon after, nearly two hundred years ago. In a manner of making the bond between the elven realms stronger and to also get their minds off of their loss, the three agreed to be separated.” Thranduil finished with a slightly grim smile.

“Why are you telling me this?” Legolas asked.

“So you may know of what to speak of carefully.” Thranduil toyed with one of his son’s braids, “I will be joining you on the spider hunt tomorrow.” He said.

Legolas smiled, he hadn’t fought alongside his father in a long time. His father was a good person, terrifying and cold at times, but good. He only showed others what others expected to see, an Ice-King. He showed his son what his son wanted to see, a parent. With a final kiss to the forehead, Thranduil entered his chambers, “Posto vae.” The phrase was returned and the door closed.

Legolas easily walked to his own chambers, where he lay gazing at the ceiling, deep in thought. It was close to midnight before he finally allowed his eyes to glaze over as he began to rest.


	9. The Ice King was Nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My Lord,” Galion knocked on the door. Galion trusted him. Galion had good judgement and that inspired a bit of confidence in both father and son, “Bard has arrived.”

“Why do you linger in the shadows?”

“You look sexy when you're angered.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow, indeed he’d been angry. One of his own had been bitten by an Ungoliant, so he’d lent his elk to his son to race to the healers. What had been left of the spiders by that time was quickly finished off by the king himself. He’d dismissed his elves after that wishing to spend some time with himself. Though he’d never describe his anger as ‘sexy’ and it was needless for him to ask of the use of that term.

“I did not think that our meeting would occur more often than every fortnight.” Said Thranduil, as he began to leisurely stroll back to the palace, “You’ve no need to hunt anymore. Why are you here?”

Bard chuckled, “I merely wish to strengthen the alliance through a more genuine means, My Lord.” Thranduil hummed.

They walked in amiable silence, neither having much to say anyways. Bard noticed how the king would wistfully gaze at a blackened tree or wilted flower, his icy eyes softened slightly, almost unnoticeably. It was sad to see such an ethereal creature so dismayed. Yes, Bard was technically dead and therefore shouldn’t care when he sees death or others surrounded by it. However if he could still get an erection then he could still care.

“As nice as this is,” Bard said and the king glanced over to him sharply, as though he’d forgotten Bard was even there. It didn’t go past Bard how far he turned his head until both eyes were facing him, “I best be off. The Master’s tightening my schedule.”

Thranduil barely held back a flinch as the vampire erupted into a swarm of bats. He still remembered that little episode from when he was in the shape of an elk. He watched the small creatures flit between the trees and out of his sight.

Bard landed right on his barge, the barrels were already loaded and all he had to do was to untie the barge and head ‘home’. The waters were as murky as ever and the rock clusters were as rocky as ever. 

The town smelled as much of fish and tar as it had the day before, and the week before. Just as long as it’s existed. The people were as miserably happy as they’d ever been. Bard had to give the Master some credit for consistency.

He was hugged fiercely by both of his daughters as soon as he entered the door. “Hello, my darlings.” He laughed as he picked Tilda up, “Anything interesting?”

Tilda fired off at the prompt, skipping from one thing to the next. They went to the market, they met with Hilda, and they bought some spices, Sigrid stitched up her teddy bear which she’d ripped for the nth time. Bard’s full attention was on her. When Tilda seemed to have exhausted what she remembered of the day’s events Sigrid took over, “Alfrid came over.” She said grimly.

Bard frowned, “What for?” What could that little weasel want this time?

“He wanted to speak with you for some pointless thing or another.” Said Sigrid as she went about to begin preparing dinner, “Demanded that we let him in.” Bard frowned even more, “That is until we reminded him that he still hasn’t changed the law about minors allowing people in the house. Then he left.”

Bard groaned. They were getting bolder. There’d be trouble soon, Bard was sure of it.

Bain came home a couple of hours later, at sundown. He was apprenticing at the smithy for the sake of fitting in. As soon as they were grown up they could go on to find a better place to live. It was unfortunate that Bard had fallen in love with a mortal woman from such a dingy place, not really the best place to raise kids. It was only even more unfortunate that she passed before he could confess his ‘condition’, shortly after Tilda was born.

Sigrid became a sort of replacement mother after that. Cooking, and knitting, and sowing, and patching and what-not other amazing things that Bard wished he had the time to do. But between three kids, vampiric tendencies, Braga, Alfrid, the Master and now Thranduil’s alliance one could only do so much.

Thus passed the next two weeks. The same boring routine, until the end of the second week. As he and Bain left the house to go their separate ways he spoke loud enough so any of the Master’s spies could hear him, “I’m going hunting tonight son, I’ll be back early on the ‘morrow.” With a pat to his son’s back he departed with the barge. Lucky for him Alfrid didn’t cross his path.

The hunger had begun to gnaw at him once more. It was time again to feed. This time not just on any elf, he would feed on ‘the’ elf. The one. He was willing to bet he’d be the first vampire to do so.

…

Thranduil, the Ice King, was nervous. He hated to admit it but it was so. He paced back and forth in his chambers. His face was entirely impassive, but if anyone other than his son bothered to look they’d see the worry as well. His son wasn’t ready to rule. Valar, his son didn’t want to rule!

His son sat on a chair nearby. He was nervous too and he was doing a much worse job than his father at hiding it. What if that elf-slayer decided to live up to his name? What if his father was hurt? His powers didn’t work on that creature after all and the vampire knew it. “Ada. How can you be certain he won’t betray you?”

“I can’t.” Stated Thranduil simply. “I can only hope,” He hated doing that. Hoping created a false sense of security, “That he does not wish to suffer the wrath of the Woodland Elves.”

“My Lord,” Galion knocked on the door. Galion trusted him. Galion had good judgement and that inspired a bit of confidence in both father and son, “Bard has arrived.”

“Bring him here.” Thranduil looked at Legolas then, “Ion-nin, everything will turn out fine.” He said it with such confidence that Legolas just had to believe him, “Now go.”

Just as Legolas opened the door to leave Galion arrived with Bard in tow. Legolas glared at the vampire and once again received a smirk in return, as they walked past each other. Galion bowed in respect to his king before nudging Bard in and shutting the door.

Bard stood there awkwardly, staring at the elf as the reality of the situation sunk in. Damn. Thranduil merely raised an eyebrow at him as he began to unbutton his robe.

With the hunger heightening his senses Bard could hear each clip of a clasp and slip of a button. Each breath and the quickening of his heartbeat. Oh, the temptation.

Soon the elf was left only in his white tunic and grey trousers. He unbuttoned his top four buttons to reveal his neck and collar bone. Bard swallowed as his eyes locked on the spot where the Thranduil’s jugular should be. His eyes slowly swirled to red and his fangs began to extend as the elf stood straight, “Well?” Asked Thranduil, not a waver or tremor to be heard in his voice as he stood proudly.

Bard slowly stalked over to the elf, coming to stand a hairsbreadth from him. He could almost taste the sweet nectar now as he leaned his head over the elf’s neck and licked a stripe over his pulse. He noted the slight shudder with a sense of filthy satisfaction. He mouthed as the spot, enjoying the small barely there reactions, he’d have missed had he not been what he was. He made his way up to just below the pointed ear, “Don’t overstep your boundaries, elf-slayer.” Grunted the king.

Bard smirked against alabaster skin, “Relax Flower, I won’t force myself on you. Though,” He nipped at the skin, not enough to break it, preparing the elf for what was to come, “I admit that I am tempted,” He felt Thranduil stiffen, “Such a thing is beneath me.” He nipped harder and Thranduil barely concealed a groan.

“Alright then,” Bard chuckled as he licked the spot again, “Are you ready Flower?”

Thranduil growled at the nickname, “Just get it over with!”

Bard smirked, “I still think you’re sexy when you’re angry, Flower.” Before Thranduil could retort a sharp pain in his neck cut him off and he grunted slightly.

Bard moaned. Oh, he was right. It was like nectar. The life blood of this unreachable Flower. Such sweet blood should be forbidden from anyone but him, he got it first. It was his by oath, by allegiance. None should dare waste this blood, none but him should dare taste this liquid dream.

Thranduil groaned. The brief pain swiftly bled into pleasure. Each heave of the vampire sent a jolt through his body. A hand had snuck into his hair, tugging him to the side and bearing his neck more. Each gentle tug sent another set of jolts through him. He’d never felt anything like this. He’d never expected it, such bliss. Such peace.

Bard felt the elf’s knees tremble. He scooped the elf up, wrapping those long legs around his waist and carrying him to where he barely noticed the bed was. Thranduil was uncharacteristically soft and pliant beneath him and he was proud to have melted the fabled Ice King into this puddle. He wasn’t even making noise anymore. The elf’s hand was fisted at his ratty coat the other reaching up to tangle in his curly hair, holding him close. Who was he to refuse?

This must be what Valinor was like for the elves! Unfortunately as was the law of nature all good things must come to pass. As soon as he felt Thranduil’s grip slacken he pulled away, licking at the wound, cleaning and healing the wound and skin.

The elf stared up with glazed eyes, not quite unconscious, mouth slack and body lax. Bard was tempted to kiss him, to take his breath away as well. To let him taste his own blood. He held back though. He had boundaries to respect and while his Flower looked quite delightful in a rage, now was hardly the time.


	10. Little Red meet Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil glared coldly at the vampire about to throw a cutting remark when a small squeak caught his attention. The little, black ball of fur on Bard’s shoulder snuffled as it used its small claws to crawl down his sleeve and on the bed.

When Thranduil mostly regained his senses he found himself laying upon his bed wrapped up in silk sheets. He remembered (surprisingly) what had transpired the night before, or at least what it felt like. Was it the night before? Was it still the same day? Why was he in bed?

He jerked up quickly pulling the sheets from his body. He sighed in relief as he noted that he still wore his trousers and tunic. A small squeaking sound caught his attention from across the room. His eyes shot to the shadowed figure sitting in his armchair, “You’re still here?” He said not awake enough yet to compose his voice.

Bard looked up from the small black ball in his hands, “Good to see you in the world of the waking, Flower.” He chuckled.

“Don’t call me that.” Grumbled Thranduil as he pulled away the sheets and sat up. He brought a hand up to his head as he was hit with a wave of light-headedness. “Why are you still here?”

Bard frowned, “I am hurt, Flower. To think you’d assume that I am inconsiderate enough to leave you in this condition.” He stood up, placing the thing he held on his shoulder and went to the table, where he filled a goblet with water. He went over to the elf and smirked at the suspicious look he was given as he handed the goblet.

“Why do you care?” Said Thranduil coldly, “I don’t need your help.” He greedily emptied the goblet and placed it on his bedside table.

“I believe you do, Flower.” Said Bard as he sat on the edge of the bed, “You’re dazed. You’re low on blood and I need to make sure there are no nasty side-effects of my bite.” After all, this blood was his. He will not have its source damaged, because he overlooked something.

Thranduil glared coldly at the vampire about to throw a cutting remark when a small squeak caught his attention. The little, black ball of fur on Bard’s shoulder snuffled as it used its small claws to crawl down his sleeve and on the bed. A small bat.

Thranduil watched curiously as it crawled closer to him. He placed a hand on the sheets and let the small creature climb on, he raised his palm and gazed closely at it, not missing how Bard tensed. The little bat’s ears twitched as Thranduil hummed low in his throat and it snuffled comfortably into the elf’s palm.

Bard relaxed as he watched them interact. It was foolish of him to worry. Elves got on well with most animals, big and small.

“Who is this?” Asked Thranduil, seemingly having regained the impassiveness of his voice.

Bard smiled a genuine smile, “This is Little Red.”

Thranduil tilted his head curiously, “Little Red?” What sort of a name was that?

“Indeed. Bats name each other by appearance or actions.” Thranduil was intrigued, “Little Red is named so because she is so small and she once ripped the artery of an enemy.” Thranduil suddenly found himself holding a lot more respect for the small creature on his palm. Bard then carried on speaking, “Little Red meet Flower.” Thranduil glared at the vampire as the bat chattered in barely audible squeaks, “Congratulation, My Lord. You will now be known as Flower among bat-kind.”

Thranduil’s jaw clenched, “Why so, elf-slayer? Why that… name?”

Bard smirked, “Your blood,” He stated, “it is sweet like the nectar of a flower.” He leaned closer to the elf then, “I was so tempted to let you taste it yourself,” Thranduil leaned away, seeming appalled at the notion, “Alas, I hate to share.” Bard moved back a comfortable distance from the elf.

Thranduil glowered, “You make it sound as though I am something you can possess. As though I am naught but an item.”

Bard frowned, “You are not an item. Though you are my food source. I admit that I am possessive and protective of that which is mine and theirs. Fear not I’ve got my loyalties in order and any under your wing are under mine as well. Though,” He smirked, “I am afraid your son does not favour me much.”

“You’re easy to be weary of.” Said Thranduil absently as he stroked a thumb over the back of the small bat.

“I will take that as a compliment and nothing else.” Stated the vampire. “Also, Little Red has come to me with news.” Thranduil perked up at that, “Something dwells in the old fortress of-“

“Dol Guldur.” Finished the elf with a put upon sigh, “I know. The spiders spawn there. My Captain of the Guard has been urging me to lay an attack on the fortress for moons.”

“I would not recommend it.” Bard muttered, “Something foul dwells there. Dark and dank.”

“I was not planning to act on it. It is beyond my borders, I only want my lands clear of those beasts.” Thranduil said.

Bard reached over and took Little Red, “Whatever, My Lord wishes. Scout the woods Little Red, report anything foul. Do not engage.” The small thing chattered soundly before flapping its wings and flying off through the caves.

“My lord,” Thranduil looked sharply at the vampire, “I must leave. I advise you to send for me should you feel ill.”

Thranduil grit his teeth in irritation, “I will be fine.” He said firmly. He was still a bit light-headed but elvish regeneration served to heal him swiftly, “I will call Galion for you.”

The elf was pushed down as he moved to get out of the bed, “No, no. You stay there until any dizziness is gone. I’ll find the way out myself.”

Thranduil regarded him silently, before nodding, “Until next we meet.” Bard raised a hand in a wave as he walked out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Thranduil sighed as he sank back in the sheets. Suddenly he felt so much heavier than he’d been mere moments ago. He breathed deeply and allowed himself to drift off to the edge of awake and asleep.

All too soon he was brought back by a hurried knock on the door. With a muffled, “Enter.” Thranduil heard the doors to his chamber fling open. The light steps striding closer to him belonged to none other than his son.

“Adar! How are you?” Thranduil felt a weight settle on the side of his bed and a hand lay on his arm, “Are you well? Are you hurt?” Legolas swore if that overgrown, flying rat had harmed his father, he’d lop off his head himself.

“I am fine, ion-nin.” Thranduil assured as his icy eyes opened a sliver, “Just… a bit drained.”

“You are absolutely hilarious, ada.” Said the prince drily. He moved his father’s hair from his neck on either sides searching for evidence of the bites. The only thing he found were two barely noticeable marks on the right side of his neck, “Why are you so sluggish, ada? Is this normal?”

Thranduil spent a moment just breathing, before speaking, “My body is replenishing lost blood, ion. I just need to sleep through it.” He was about to drift off once more as he felt his son stroke his silky hair, until her thought of something, “Should you not be in bed, ion? It is late.”

“You are my first concern, ada.” Legolas said warmly in contrast to his father, “Did the vampire harm you in any way?” He asked again, hoping that his father’s dazed state would give him some truth.

“No, ion…” Mumbled Thranduil as he fell asleep.

“Posto vae.” Legolas left his father’s chamber with a sigh. 

“Hir Vuin, Legolas.” It was Galion. “How fares the king?” He asked.

“He says he is well. That the vampire didn’t hurt him.” Legolas said in frustration.

Galion smiled understandingly, “Maybe you should trust him on this. I understand you are worried, my Prince and that you care. However you must also understand that your father knows what he is doing.”

“I know Galion.” Legolas sighed once more, “I know.”

“Maybe you should try to get to know him, My Prince. He is a rather enjoyable companion.” Said Galion, before he continued on his way to Valar know where so early in the morning.

“Funny,” He grumbled, “Meludir said the same thing.”


	11. Speaking of Barrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I do touch your father in such a manner as you’re suggesting it’ll be because he wants it.” Smirked Bard as he wiggled his brows.

Bard walked through the Mirkwood halls leisurely. He wasn’t in a hurry, dawn was approaching but since he was out ‘hunting’ he could afford to delay, maybe even get the Master’s hopes up. He idly glanced around at carvings, paintings and tapestries always amazed at the skill of the elves and their eye for detail.

Not many were awake yet. Only a few guards passing him, it seemed that elves were quite the gossipers for any that passed him nodded in greeting. Some looked suspicious (as was expected) and some looked as though they couldn’t care less (i.e. Feren).

 As he descended some random staircase he heard the heavy sound of wood hitting stone, a sound he was very familiar with. He’d found himself in the cellars it seems. If the strong smell of wine was anything to go by and he wasn’t alone. An elf was there, stacking barrels on a platform. It was rather early if you asked Bard.

 “Good Morning!” Said Bard as he finished going down the stairs.

 The elf started and stumbled from where he’d been on his way for another barrel. He looked at Bard curiously, “Hello?” Then the elf smiled, “You must be Bard!”

 “Indeed.” Confirmed Bard.

 “Meludir speaks of you.” Said the elf as he grabbed another barrel and nodding in thanks to Bard who moved to pick up another.

 “He does?”

 “Quite fondly in fact.” Said the elf as he placed down the barrel, “He was quite curious of when you’d be back. Where are my manners!? I am [Baralinor](http://gaeruilwen.tumblr.com/post/118229503420/baralinor).” He extended a hand. 

Bard shook it firmly, “Lovely to meet you.” 

“Bard!”

Both vampire and elf turned to the staircase to see Meludir, smiling broadly. Bard chuckled, “Do all elves wake at the crack of dawn?” He asked. 

Meludir and Baralinor shook their heads, “No, mainly us and Laerorn.” Meludir then looked around, “Speaking of which, where is [Laerorn](http://lostinangbang.tumblr.com/post/132267463428/i-hereby-take-this-young-elf-and-dub-him-laerorn)?”

“Feren had him training late last night.” Supplied Baralinor.

Bard found it hard to imagine that Feren had it I him to train somebody. The elf just looked so done with his fellows. “What will you two be doing then?”

“Yoga!” Said Meludir excitedly.

 “Yoga?” Bard tested, “What’s… Yoga?” 

“We’ll show you in a moment. Could you two just help me with those last two barrels?” 

Less than ten minutes later Bard was being led to a large balcony somewhere in the upper levels of the palace, stopping only at a small store room to pick up two rolled up mats. Once there the two set up whatever they had to meanwhile Bard leaned back on a pillar near further back…

… And then he proceeded to fail to pick his jaw up from the floor as the two elves took up impossible positions.

Their bodies twisted, and bent, and stretched into positions that shouldn’t have been possible even for elves. In his stupor he almost didn’t pick up the sound of footsteps approaching. He turned, keeping half an eye on the two as he made to greet the new elf, only to be cut off.

“You’re still here.” It was Legolas, of course. Still as grumpy as ever.

“Yep.” Said Bard as he turned back to Meludir and Baralinor.

Legolas frowned at the subtle dismissal and turned to where the vampire was looking, (the other two having entirely escaped his notice,) expecting to see the sunrise near the Lonely Mountain… Only to be left withholding a gasp at the side of Meludir in a position that caused his shirt to ride up slightly and expose a smooth stomach. He glared at Bard, “Why are you watching him- Them!” He hissed in a whisper.

Bard raised a brow as his eyes jumped between Legolas’ angered face and Meludir. Then his eyes widened, “Ah… I see.” He threw an arm over the prince’s shoulder and tightened his grip as the elf tried to pull away, “I understand where you’re coming from, truly, for it may surprise you that I too have experienced jealousy.”

Legolas finally freed himself, “I am not jealous.” He stated firmly.

Bard snorted, “Kid. You are jealous. But don’t fret,” Assured Bard, “I have my eyes on another.”

Legolas bristled, “If you touch my father in any way other than what you’ve been promised-”

Bard interrupted him, “If I do touch your father in such a manner as you’re suggesting it’ll be because he wants it.” Smirked Bard as he wiggled his brows.

Legolas stepped back as if in disgust, “As if my father would ever wish to be with the likes of you.” He sneered.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bard grinned, “He seemed quite eager last night.”

If Legolas wasn’t a prince he likely would’ve spat his next words, “Why you insolent, filthy-”

“Filthy would be quite the right word.” Grinned Bard again.

“I should have run you through when I had the-”

“My prince.” Legolas turned towards Baralinor and Meludir and nodded in greeting to them, smiling gently. Bard had to roll his eyes at the sudden change Meludir’s voice had caused.

Meludir was blushing slightly at the fact that the prince had been there during his morning session Baralinor, meanwhile shared a knowing look with Bard as the two elves got lost in each other’s eyes. Baralinor went over to Bard and the two slipped away unnoticed.

“Are they together?” Asked Bard.

Baralinor rolled his eyes, “We wish…” He mumbled.

“We?” Asked Bard again.

“The squad and I.” Bard again needed clarification, “The ‘squad’ are mainly elves on Tauriel’s – our Guard Captain’s – patrol team and some others, like Feren who switches between patrols and Galion who mainly remains within the palace walls.”

“And you are on the patrol team?”

Baralinor laughed, “Oh, no! Not me! I have been entirely forbidden from using weapons!”

“Why is that?” Asked Bard amusedly.

“There was that one time I nearly shot [Lothling](http://mirkwoodtrashsquad.tumblr.com/post/116392261643/this-cutie-is-lothling-his-name-means-sleep).” Bard didn’t bother asking who that was, “And the time I nearly chopped of my hand,” Continued the elf idly, “And the time I cut my leg, it wasn’t too deep.”

“I am impressed,” Stated Bard. “But also confused. You looked quite graceful earlier, you didn’t strike me as clumsy.”

Baralinor waved a hand, “I confuse many people. Also as you can see since my ban I have been doing a lot of odd jobs. Stacking barrels is one of them.” He chuckled.

 “Speaking of barrels,” Started Bard, “Do you think you can let them go a bit earlier today, I need an excuse to be home earlier, should’ve been there by now.”

 “Of course. That would mean you’re our bargeman, then.”

 “Quite right.” Said Bard. He thought for a moment then spoke, “You don’t get out much do you?”

 Baralinor frowned, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it seems to me that the most common reason the elves go outside recently is due to the spiders and seeing as you are not allowed to fight, I assumed that you spend a lot of time inside.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” Said the elf quietly.

 “Would you like to visit Laketown?” The question was rather abrupt and left the elf speechless for a moment.

“You mean that?” He said excitedly.

“Sure.” Answered Bard, “You could intimidate Alfrid if he decides to be a pain.” Bard mumbled to himself.

 “Who’s Alfrid?”

“If you’re allowed to come you’ll find out.”

Baralinor was giddy, “I must request permission from the king then!”

“I will see you one more when I visit next. You can tell me what the king has said then. Now I must leave. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye!” Waved the elf. Bard burst into a swarm of bats, startling the elf and flying through the halls, finding a large open window and exiting through it.

Sigh. He’d have to catch a couple of rabbits at least and wait for the barrels. He really needs to consider his requests before making them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might start a series revolving around the Mirkwood Trash Squad. What do you think?


	12. All is Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirst had begun to seep into the vampire’s voice and Thranduil stiffened slightly, fingering the short blade tucked into his belt; hidden beneath his robe.

The next time Bard saw the Elvenking was at the next fortnight. Though he had arrived quite a bit earlier than scheduled. That was why Bard found himself sitting with the king and his main guard eating breakfast.

Of all the elves there Bard could recognise Meludir, Baralinor, Galion, Feren and of course the king’s son himself, Legolas. The prince scowled as the vampire winked at him, but quickly relaxed his expression as little Meludir asked him something. He smirked to himself and shared a look with Baralinor. Out of the corner of hi eye he saw Thranduil also smirking at his son.

After breakfast he was strolling through the halls with the king. It seemed the elf was still wary of leaving him alone in his halls, despite that being exactly what happened last time Bard had been here. Bard didn’t like the silence.

“So Flower-“

“Do _not_ call me that.” Said the king coldly.

“And here I thought you had accepted it by now.” Bard smirked and Thranduil glared, “Anyways, what are we waiting for? As far as I remember this isn’t the way to your chambers.”

“I have decided that your… _feedings_ will take place at dusk.” Stated Thranduil, “That way I’ll be able to replenish by morning.”

Bard grinned broadly, “Replenish or come back to your senses.”

“Know your place.” Grumbled Thranduil.

“Oh, come now. Are sure you wouldn’t want to get yourself a piece of this dark, sexy-”

“Elf-Slayer!” Snapped Thranduil irately, “Mind yourself.”

“Oh, I assure you that I am very mindful of myself, Flower.” Leered Bard.

Thranduil found himself questioning his choice not to kill the vampire. He rarely questioned himself.

“And I just remembered something, Flower.”

“What?” Ground Thranduil.

“One of your elves would like to visit Laketown.”

Thranduil stopped, “Who?” If anyone wanted leave for anywhere they came to him, not to the vampire.

“Met him down at the cellars-”

“What business did you have in my cellars?”

Bard ignored the question, “Baralinor was his name if I remember correctly, which I do. Stacking barrels. Apparently he’s not allowed to fight.”

Thranduil wracked his brain as he sorted the name. Baralinor, Baralinor. Not allowed to fight. Ah, yes. Thranduil knew who it was. The young dancer, paradoxically clumsy, does a lot of odd jobs. “Why would he want to visit… _that place_?”

“Well I offered him and he accepted after of course he was to seek your permission.”

“I’ve not been informed on the matter.” It hurt Thranduil a bit on the inside; that his own subjects wouldn’t confide in him, because they were afraid.

“Will you allow him?” Bard questioned.

“I must speak with him first.” Said the Elvenking, “But I might.”

Bard looked at him for a moment as they carried on walking, “Why do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what, elf-slayer?”

“Wear that mask. I’ve seen you without it you know. When I first fed from you.”

Thranduil’s heart seized. This wasn’t planned, revealing himself was not planned. He could not afford to show weakness, especially to one such as _him_.

“It looked quite good on you too. Almost as good as you tasted. So pliant, so vulnerable.” Thirst had begun to seep into the vampire’s voice and Thranduil stiffened slightly, fingering the short blade tucked into his belt; hidden beneath his robe.

“Mind yourself, elf-slayer.” He repeated cautiously.

Bard seemed to snap out of it, “Pardon,” He breathed, “That was unintentional.”

Thranduil gazed at him from the corner of his eye, “All is well.”

“Good.” Stated Bard.

Thranduil continued to stroll through the palace with Bard. He showed him the library, the grand hall, the overlook and the public gardens. He didn’t know why? Why he felt the need to show him his home? His land? And it concerned him.

Bard noticed the conflicted expression on the elf’s face and smirked. It upset him a little bit to see his Flower in distress, but he knew the elf was in no danger. It was way more fun to bugger him, instead. He let his gaze wander appreciatively over the slender figure, as Thranduil had stopped to observe some plant or another. Broad shoulders, slim waist, lean muscles. Yes, Bard had made a good decision for once in his life. As his eyes roamed over the mouth-watering body, his nose picked up an even more inviting scent. Sweet and warm. His orbs slowly began to swirl to crimson, as his fangs extended.

“Elf-Slayer.”

Bard didn’t hear him. His eyes were locked on the prize pumping just under the elf’s jaw.

“Vampire. Control yourself.”

Bard inched closer. It wasn’t Flower’s place to stop him. Flower was food.

“Bard!”

And he snapped out of it. With difficulty, yes, but he snapped out of it. “Apologies.” He mumbled. This wasn’t good. He needed to regain control over himself. Flowe- Thranduil was not _just_ food, he was an ally. He was safety. Bard had to remember that and be grateful for it, “I- I usually don’t have to show much self-control beyond remembering to leave my pre- victi- your elves alive.” Not just his elves. He had to make sure to keep Thranduil himself alive. Bard the Bargeman had claimed an ally in the elf. Bard the Vampire had claimed a food source. Bard now needed to find a way to either make the Vampire and the Bargeman as one or to ally the Vampire to the elf.

“Perhaps we should begin the feeding early.” Murmured Thranduil, “Just this once.”

Bard grew eager but he fought for control as Thranduil lead him through the maze of caves that was his home.

At the familiarity of the hallway leading to the king’s chambers the vampire nearly jumped the elf then and there. They passed Galion on the way and Thranduil informed the butler to cancel any plans for today and reschedule them for the next day. Galion nodded politely to the both of them and moved on.

Once inside the chambers Thranduil found himself slammed against the door. He reached for his knife but his hand was pinned. Bard breathed heavily, “I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what… it is about you.” He reluctantly released the elf, hands twitching to trap him again. “I’ll have to learn. This- This hasn’t happened before.”

Thranduil warily watched the twitching hands and flashing eyes. He wished again that his powers would work on the creature. “Just lay no harm beyond what you must.” Thranduil knew, he hated to admit it, but he knew. The vampire was stronger than him. Maybe not mentally, for clearly he was lacking in restraint but physically, unless Thranduil managed to poison him Bard could easily overpower him. His words were his only defence.

“I do not wish to lay _any_ harm.” Bard said, “I do not intend to cause pain… Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve caused– pain intentionally before but I’d never take a life. Not willingly.” Bard could see the lingering (and rightfully so) doubt in the elf’s icy eyes, so he tried to lighten the mood, “Even if I did harm you, I am certain your son would avenge you one way or another.”

Thranduil had to hold back a smile. His son was so protective. “Very well, elf-slayer. I will trust you to not live up to your title.” He said as he began to remove his layers of clothes, until he was again left in tunic and trousers, “And I trust that in time, you will learn self-control, beyond what you already have.”

Bard stalked forward, the soft, slowly increasing pulse tempting him, “Learning self-control takes much time, Flower. Sometimes years.” He murmured as he raised his fingers to unbutton the top few buttons of the tunic.

“A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf.” Breathed Thranduil as he felt an urge to present his neck subtly, missing Bard’s smirk, “I am patient. I can wait.”

And as Bard’s fangs sunk in, he grunted. There had been no preparation this time, no light nips or licks. Although Thranduil did disapprove of them the previous time, he now saw their purpose.

Bard was entirely unaware of the other’s slight discomfort as he gorged on the sweet nectar. Growling sharply and tightening his hold as the elf shifted. Thranduil froze as the pinprick of pain slowly dissolved into pleasure. Now that he was experiencing this a second time he found himself much more aware of the situation, probably not for long but he imagined that he’d be able to stay aware for longer each time.

He felt a sharp rush of pleasure as Bard sucked deeply once every few pumps of his heart. He soon began growing light headed as more and more blood was removed from his system. He felt his knees wobble and he latched on to the vampire’s coat. He was unused to feeling so weak. He barely grunted a protest as Bard repeated his actions from two weeks ago, wrapping the elf’s long legs around his waist and carrying him over to the bed.

As he was laid down he felt the need to protest against the treatment, but another sharp suck left him wordless. He groaned as his legs fell limp on either side of the vampire, but his hand kept a strong grip on the coat. What a sensation! Each tug of his blood rolled over him like a wave, pulling him further and further away from coherence.

Bard could feel his Flower begin to slacken and melt. He made to pull away, having had enough and finally being sated, but as he made to move away Thranduil’s hand dug into the back of his head, tangling in his hair and pulling him back. “No…” Breathed the elf. Bard was unsure of what to do, nobody had reacted like that before. He kept his fangs sunk into the elf’s skin. He laid over the still form and slowly let chemicals seep from his fangs and into the elf, relaxing him.

Eventually Thranduil relaxed enough for Bard to pull away. Despite the slight twitch of the pale fingers, he didn’t come back down.  This wasn’t normal. Was anything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pretty sure that when I promised to write this story, the person that gave me the prompt was expecting something a bit more professional.
> 
> Expect chapter 13 either tomorrow or the week after next week, because i have exams next week.  
> Yay (T_T)  
> P.S. - I am planning a bit of action for that chapter too.


	13. An Interesting Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was lust there, lust at each other’s power and vulnerability to the other, there was a dangerous curiosity swirling in both of them. This was a risky game they were beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know... just... to hell with studying for maths!

Bard didn’t suppose he would ever get used to the sight of the Elvenking after a feeding. Entirely lax and peaceful. So unlike the image he carried when awake. Bard sat in the corner of the room again, observing the king like he had last time. The king’s heartbeat was slow, as was his breathing and thankfully it was no longer as tempting for Bard. Again he sat and waited until the Ice King woke.

The slight groan under the shifts alerted Bard that Thranduil was coming to. The king shuffled into a seating position and Bard came up to stand by the bed; he placed a hand at Thranduil’s back as the king’s hands buckled. He didn’t know why he suddenly cared.

“You stayed again.” Mumbled Thranduil. He hated to admit it but the thought that somebody besides Legolas, Galion and Tauriel cared was heart-warming; even if the vampire only cared for the food and the safety provided.

Bard chuckled, “Just as last time, I needed to make sure that nothing went wrong. You’ll get used to it, eventually.” He patted Thranduil’s back gently in a sort-of friendly gesture, moving away when he felt the elf was stable enough to sit on his own. Thranduil didn’t acknowledge his aid.

Thranduil raised a hand to rub at the spot where he’d been bitten, withholding a grimace as it was sore. Bard smiled apologetically as he walked over to the king’s table and filled a goblet with water. He went back to the elf and he took the drink with a look of cold gratitude. They sat in silence as Thranduil emptied the goblet, setting it down on the bedside table.

“I’ve requested Galion to bring up something light for you to eat.” Said Bard, “To replenish yourself.”

“Why do you care?” Asked Thranduil.

“Pardon?”

“Why do you tend to me like this? I understand we are allies and you take my blood, but you do not need to babysit me.” Said Thranduil, “I am more than powerful enough for you to know that I can recover from bloodloss. So why?”

Bard gazed at the king, whose eyes were glued to the duvet, “I didn’t use to.” He said at last, “You were only a food source at first, Flower,” He smirked as the elf huffed, “At first I needed to be sure that you’d be a sustainable one, that it wouldn’t be too much for you to handle.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes. He’d handled much worse. In the world that they lived in, he could only wait for worse.

“I suppose the vampire in me realized that you could. So now I need to maintain that.” Finished Bard.

Thranduil smirked, “Are you going to test my limits, elf-slayer?”

“Do you think you could handle it?” Bard’s pointed canines showed as he grinned.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Are you up for it?”

They had leaned in over that exchange. But a few inches between them. Their eyes were locked in a silent war, Thranduil’s icy eyes roving through Bard’s now hazel orbs. There was lust there, lust at each other’s power and vulnerability to the other, there was a dangerous curiosity swirling in both of them. This was a risky game they were beginning.

“Am I interrupting?” Galion’s voice sounded at the door. The butler stood there with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

Thranduil turned to his butler while Bard leaned back leisurely, “No.” Said the king, “Bring it in.”

Galion opened the door fully and entered with a tray of assorted fruit, vegetables and meats. He set the tray on the king’s bedside table by Bard. When the two thanked him he bowed respectfully and walked out.

Bard suddenly felt awkward. Now that that intense moment was gone he really didn’t know what to do with himself, “I best be going.”

“Indeed.” Sounded Thranduil as he picked at his food.

“I’ll send a bat in a few hours.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Until then.”

“Yeah.” Bard made for the door and as soon as he was outside he burst into bats and zoomed for the first possible exit. As soon as he flew out of the palace he felt like slapping himself. He forgot to ask again about Baralinor! Oh well…

He didn't return straight to the lake after leaving, rather he flew around the forest with no particular aim. As he made another loop his ears picked up the light sounds of conversation. He honed in on its source and hid amongst the trees.

He was on the opposite side of the palace than the one he had flown out from. And considering that elves couldn’t fly these two were a fair distance from home. He peeked from the branches of the tree and grinned. Well, what do you know?

Legolas and Meludir strolled through the forest idly talking about anything and nothing at the same time. They were largely avoiding eye contact as they spoke, Meludir was cutely twiddling his fingers and Legolas was looking up at the trees. He was doing pathetically in Bard’s opinion. He was tossing around the idea of giving them a fright when a slight rustling in the trees caught his attention. The other two clearly hadn’t heard.

He slinked along the branches farther and farther from the two. His hearing was keen and he could hear quite a distance, so by the time he reached the source of the sound he was well and near the southern border of the kingdom. In the distance he could hear creatures shuffling about in the crowns of the trees. He could see the sickness that slowly slithered closer to Thranduil’s castle.

There seemed to be nothing unusual though. The sounds he was hearing were likely miles away. He took flight again this time intent on returning to the lake. He was just at the barge when the alarm came.

Bard’s head shot up from where he was untying the barge as the sound of Little Red’s alarmed squeaks interrupted him. The little bat didn’t even wait for him to extend a hand, it just slammed right into his chest and began a rapid fire of squeaks. His heart seized.

In no time at all (about five minutes actually) Bard was back at the palace. The gate guard were startled but soon calmed, “Why have you returned?” It was common knowledge now that Bard would be coming and going every half-moon, but for what purpose only a few knew. What the guards _did_ know though was that Bard shouldn’t have been back yet.

“It is urgent!” Bard said frantically.

One of the guards glared, “Why don’t you tell us? We’ll decide if it’s urgent or not.”

The second guard seemed more rational. “Let him through.” He said.

“But Elros-”

“I said, let him in!” Elros demanded, “He seems freaked, he didn’t strike me as the type to freak when we first met.” In the forest when he was first captured.

The gates were opened and Bard gave only two word in return, “Arm yourselves!”

He zoomed through the palace halls, past confused elves and through caves. He found Thranduil’s rooms and burst in without knocking. Thranduil had been there buttoning up his silver-gold robe while Galion held his velvet shroud. Both had been startled by his sudden appearance though the King hid it better and quicker.

“What brings you back?” Asked Thranduil as he slid his crown on.

“There’s no time for formalities!” Said Bard any cheek gone, “You must arm your men!”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, “Why?”

“There is a hoard of spiders and apparently orcs heading this way!”

“How would you know?” Demanded the king.

“One of my bats relayed-”

“How can you be certain, then?”

“I am one with them.” Stated Bard, “I know what they have seen. Thranduil, you must prepare your men for battle.”

Thranduil stayed still for a moment as though gauging Bard’s honesty, “Very well,” He said eventually, “Galion, alert the captains.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I want every available warrior mobilized, armed and on guard. I want every elf participating to be listed.” Galion nodded and exited speedily, “Bard,” Thranduil turned to the vampire who straightened up, “How many are we talking about?”

“Several dozen, up to six dozen I’d say orcs and maybe five dozen spiders. I’d give them about two hours to get here.”

Thranduil cursed. It wasn’t as though his soldiers couldn’t win this battle, rather it was the lives that the victory would cost. A hand on his shoulder caused him to face the vampire.

“I will fight with you.” Said Bard, “I will prevent as much loss as I can.” Thranduil looked almost comforted, “But in return,” There goes the comfort, “I want you to stay here.”

Thranduil bristled, “I am not remaining hidden behind walls!”

Bard didn’t let up, “You’ve been hiding behind walls for a long time, Flower. I’m sure you can handle a little while more.” Thranduil glared at him coldly, “I know that under normal circumstances you’d be able to hold your own, but you are still recovering.”

“I will be well enough in the time it takes those beasts to get here!” Thranduil stated. He certainly didn’t sound as though he’d been weakened. However Bard could see through the king. After being drained of blood like he’d been, a couple of hours of sleep and a bit of food weren’t going to fully bring back his strength, despite being an elf.

Thranduil’s stubbornness was grating on Bard though, “You will remain here!” He demanded as his eyes turned red and his fangs grew. As proof to his weakened state Thranduil wasn’t yet recovered enough to mask the slight tremble of fear and… _excitement_ that ran through him.

“You do not order me around, elf-slayer!” Said Thranduil, “I am king in this alliance!”

“You are a king who would end up dead before you caused any damage to the enemy!”

“How dare you imply that I am incapable of fighting?”

“I _imply_ nothing! I state that you are in no condition to fight!”

“I am in adequate condition to fight!”

“You will be injured!”

“Injuries can occur on the field! That is the way battle works!”

“I would **_kill_ anyone** before they lay a single mark upon you! You are mine! Mine to mark! Mine to feed from! Mine to protect!”

A deathly silence fell over the room, only Thranduil’s heavy breathing penetrated the thick atmosphere. Bard’s red eyes swam with an undistinguishable rage, Thranduil could see that his vampire had clouded over. He was shocked at the bold claim over his person. None had ever spoken to him like this He shivered in excitement. How peculiar. Thranduil had never been dominated before. “Prove it.” He whispered.

And just like that the ice king was slammed against the wall, trembling even more than before as his heart attempted to rapidly spread blood that was still less than normal. His breathing was harsh as his gaze was trapped by the red one opposite him. The vampire growled loudly and Thranduil smirked.

It was that infuriating smirk that fuelled Bard. How could he be so confident in such a position!? He growled once more and lunged for the elf.

Thranduil was about to smirk as the vampire lunged for what he assumed had been his throat, but was interrupted midway as his smirk was crashed into by a pair of (pleasantly) rough lips. An interesting development.

Thranduil hummed as a tongue was forced between his lips, no request for permission had been made. He should have been furious, but this outrageous display of dominance was absolutely addictive. He pushed back with his own tongue for a short while but the brute force of the other overwhelmed him. He was mercilessly and thoroughly explored. Bard’s warm muscle slithered over his own, and his teeth and his gums.

Thranduil snaked his tongue to run over Bard’s lips and Bard let him. Thranduil took the opportunity and caressed the pointed teeth. He purposely nicked his tongue and just about purred when the vampire growled and forced him back harder against the wall, pushing the elf’s tongue back and entering his mouth again. He sucked on Thranduil’s tongue taking in as much blood as he could without having to bite him more.

Bard knew, oh, he knew. Thranduil had planned this and Bard would go along with his plan, even if he hadn’t the outcome would’ve been the same. Now Bard would add his own bit to it. He sealed his lips over Thranduil’s completely, tangling a hand in the silky hair and wrapping a hand around the slim waist, holding him in place securely. Even as Thranduil began to struggle after a couple of minutes, he held on tight. He forced out every breath from the elf, he kept at it as Thranduil’s hands began to tear at his hair (he could regrow it anyways), he kept going as Thranduil’s grip on his hair fell away and his struggles weakened, he kept going as he felt Thranduil’s heart about to burst. He only stopped when the king fell unconscious.

He carried him to the bed and laid him down carefully, tucking the sheets around him. He made sure to place a goblet of water on the bedside table. He ran a hand carefully through silken strands of hair, “You didn’t have to do that.” He whispered, “I would’ve fought to protect them regardless.” He sighed and stood.

As he walked out of the door he saw Galion there with several elves that Bard assumed to be generals or captains. “The king will not join us in battle,” He said, “He needs rest. Galion understands why.” He supplied as he noticed their questioning looks, “The king will make reasons known if he deems it necessary.” He turned to Galion, “Let’s go.”

“Bard,” Galion said sounding distressed.

“Yes?”

“Legolas and Meludir are unaccounted for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I had it in me... Should I be rating this as Mature now?


	14. Orcs and Spiders and even Wargs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could hear them getting closer now, just a couple of hundred feet away. If they were to turn around they likely see a spider behind them, though looking ahead and they could see the glint of elven armour in the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back!

It was unnecessary to say that Bard was distressed. He zoomed past the trees to where he’d last seen Legolas and Meludir. While he knew very well that the prince was not very fond of him he still felt as though it was his duty as Thranduil’s ally to protect him and Meludir (any elf under Thranduil’s care.) Especially now when Thranduil was incapacitated; Bard was tempted to feel guilty about it but he knew that it was for the better… Though he did feel tempted to hit himself for not tying the elf up. It was too late now anyways. The orcs were drawing close; preparations had taken a tad too long.

He soon came upon the two elves, crouched in the branches, bows drawn, “Vampire.” Stated Legolas as he kept his focus on the distance. Meludir, in contrast gave a friendly smile.

“Prince Legolas,” Bard almost rolled his eyes when he used the title, he doubted he would do it again. Legolas almost rolled his eyes at how sarcastic it sounded, “You must fall back. I know you’ve noticed the approaching threat and you two cannot take them on alone. Fall back towards the palace where the soldiers are being positioned.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes, “How many are there?”

“Spiders and orcs, several dozen of each.” They both noticed Meludir shudder lightly in trepidation, Bard nudged him slightly, “It’ll be fine.” He said comfortingly, _I hope._

A shriek in the distance caused the two elves to point their bows in the direction it came from.

Bard hastily urged them to head back, “That’s our cue!” The trio made their way back with Bard at their backs. Though the elves were fast Bard knew that spiders were faster and the orcs were not far behind. He’d forgone bringing a weapon knowing that the elven swords and bows will not carry through his transformation into bats due to the magic in them. He had Galion bring a second sword and an extra bow and quiver. He only hoped that they’d reach the soldiers before they had to engage in battle.

He could hear them getting closer now, just a couple of hundred feet away. If they were to turn around they likely see a spider behind them, though looking ahead and they could see the glint of elven armour in the trees. They came upon the line of soldiers on the ground, swords and shields and everything.

The soldiers spaced themselves as if on cue to allow room for the three to join their ranks. Galion who was now at Bard’s side handed him his weapons, he then looked to the prince and the young elf, “Go join the archers.” Legolas and Meludir nodded and made for the trees, Bard was surprised to see Legolas turn and give him a small nod of gratitude, which he returned.

Bard leaned to Galion, “Any moment now.”

 _“Aim!”_ Galion called in elvish and the Vampire could hear the elves’ bowstrings straining as they were pulled back.

The sound of orcs stomping through the trees was thundering and all could hear branches snapping as the spiders raced through the trees.

The small clearing they had picked was absolutely empty. Archers lined the trees at the edge and swordsmen formed a barrier thirty feet back prepared to cut down any that got past the barrage of arrows.

The first surge of spiders burst from the trees. **_We shall feast. We shall feast!_** Bard heard them chant as they skittered through the clearing, managing to get only half way before the command was given for the elves to release their arrows. Only about half a dozen spiders made it through and they were shot just as they’d begun to climb the trees towards the archers.

The second wave was mixed, dozens of spiders and orcs rushing out from the trees. Galion gave command for the archers to fire at will. Many of the dark creatures were felled and some limped with arrows in their legs and shoulders but none made it far.

The third wave came as little surprise as orcs were spotted hiding behind trees and drawing arrows. Being prepared for that the elven archers had been paired off, as the orcs aimed the elves drew together and pulled up their shields. One shield was enough to protect an elf but two could cover three. As the poisoned and jagged arrows bounced harmlessly off their shields the elves waited for the barrage to end. Yet no plan was fool proof.

Orcs and spiders and even wargs (that was unexpected, Bard hadn’t heard any growling or howling) rushed from the trees. The elven archers were swift to take aim but many had gotten past. Thus the swords men were engaged. They stayed off the clearing allowing the archers to do their jobs.

Bard sliced and jabbed with his swords being very tempted to call forth his bats to end the battle. Though he knew that no bat would sink their teeth into orc flesh. He saw the elves around him cutting down the beasts with uncanny grace. He could spy Feren and he guessed Tauriel mong them and some of the others that he’d been introduced to, while swiftly moving to stab an orc that had attempted to sneak up on an already engaged elf. That was low…

 ** _One of us! Dark creature! He fights us! Doesn’t wish to feast!_** Bard heard the spiders his as he stabbed them. _I feast only on one!_ He thought as he cut through them.

It seemed that he had miscalculated the number of creatures. The spiders and orcs kept coming and coming at least there were no more wargs arriving; the two dozen that were already here were more than enough. The archers, he noted, were now more preoccupied with shooting down the Ungoliants attempting to climb their trees as well as blocking arrows from the orcs on the other side of the clearing. _We need to get rid of the orcs, they are too coordinated._

He looked around the clearing, soon he spotted an orc arrow stuck in a tree. He tugged it out sharply, sneering in disgust as the orc poison dripped from the rough edges. He strung it on his bow and aimed at a spider with its back turned to him. He shot and the arrow sunk into its abdomen. He grimaced at its loud shriek.

 ** _It burns! It burns! The orc has shot us! They have turned against us!_** The elves and orcs watched in shock as the spiders ceased fighting to turn towards their shrieking fellow. **_They fight us! We feast on them! Traitors! Feast! Feast!_** The spiders chanted along with the injured one as it turned to the orc that it thought shot it. The orc shrieked in fear as the spider opened its jaws and bit it, breaking bones and limbs; leaking venom from its fangs.

“Fall back! To the trees!” Bard shouted as the spiders shot after the orcs. All the elves watched from the canopy in morbid fascination as the orcs and spiders turned against each other. The wargs were last to join the fight as they were allied to the orcs. They ripped through the spiders with their fangs and claws and were in turn poisoned and torn as well. The spiders that had been making their way through the clearing had also heard the shout of the others and swiftly turned on the orc archers.

In but a short time there were few orcs remaining and a couple dozen spiders whom were chased and slain by the elves. It was an odd battle. Many of the elves hadn’t seen their enemies turning on each other in such a manner.

As soon as all the soldiers had gathered they scanned the battlefield, proud to see that only a few were injured but none had died. Galion soon gave order for the troops to head back home. As the soldiers formed neat rows and began heading towards the palace Galion stayed behind up in a tree, counting heads. Bard stood next to him with a raised brow, “Do you truly know all of them?”

Galion nodded, not breaking his concentration, “I was there when most of them were born and fought wars alongside others.” He nodded to himself in satisfaction once the final row of elves had passed them, he looked back over at the carnage they’d left behind. They’ll have to come back soon to dispose of the bodies, “Say Bard. How did you get the King to stay?”

Bard chuckled. He himself was quite surprised that Thranduil hadn’t ambled his way over. He suspected that he’d either drank too much blood and the suffocation had really knocked him out that long or the elf was awake and too dizzy to actually do anything. The most unlikely scenario was that Thranduil had actually heeded his advice and remained behind the walls even if he was stable enough to fight, “I knocked him out.” He stated plainly, seeing no reason to withhold the truth any longer.

To the vampire’s surprise Galion threw his head back and laughed, “Somehow I am not surprised!”

“You are not worried that I may have harmed your King?”

“Bard,” Galion started seriously, “I meant it when I said that I trusted you. I may be concluding my opinion rather early,” Chuckled the elf, “But I’d say that at my age I’ve seen enough characters to be able to judge one correctly.”

“I suppose,” Said Bard as the two made their way away from the carnage, “I think he’ll be mad at me.”

“Oh, he’ll be furious,” Smiled Galion, “He will no doubt try to freeze you, although we’ve seen that that does not work on you. I’m sure you’ll feel cold when he glares at you.” Galion patted him on the back sympathetically.

.:i:.

The first thing Legolas did once he’d returned home was to rush to the throne room. His ada hadn’t been at the battle which Legolas found unsettling. For such a large scale clash the king would usually have been in the front lines, yet this time he hadn’t been in any of the lines. He’d have questioned the vampire (he knew that the creature had been with his father before the battle) but was currently too concerned to bother with him.

Thranduil had not been in the throne room and the prince was pretty sure that in this situation the king wouldn’t be strolling through the gardens. He wasn’t in the healing wards, thank the Valar. So with great relief and slight trepidation Legolas approached his father’s chambers. He knocked on the door lightly.

“Enter.” His father’s voice seemed slightly strained, if a bit frustrated.

He cautiously peeked in, “Ada?” He frowned in alarm as he saw his father leaning heavily on his wooden chair as he worked on slowly slipping his silver robe on. His crown lay just on the edge of the king’s bedside table. Legolas stepped hurriedly into the room as his father snarled in frustration as he failed to close a clasp, “Are you well?” He asked as he shut the clasps gently.

“Do I look well!?” Thranduil snarled at his son with a sharp glare.

Legolas kept his eyes firmly on his father’s chin, he may trust and love his father but in moments such as these even he knew to avoid his icy eyes, “I’m sorry adar.” He mumbled as he clipped on his father’s brooch. He pulled his hands back but his eyes remained focused where they were.

Thranduil sighed heavily, “Don’t be, ion-nin.” He brought a hand up to stroke his son’s cheek, “I apologize for my behaviour.” He tilted Legolas’ head, bringing his eyes up to his. Pain throbbed in his chest at the hesitation and uncertainty in his son’s gaze as it focused on his own. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against his son’s, “Forgive me.” He murmured.

“I will,” Legolas whispered, “If…”

Thranduil pulled back and raised a brow, “If?”

“If you tell me what exactly the vampire did to you.” Legolas said firmly staring defiantly into his father’s eyes.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, “Legolas…”

“ _Father._ ”

“ _Son._ ”

Legolas sighed, “Please, ada. I worry about you. I don’t trust the vampire.”

At the look his son gave him Thranduil relented. He pulled back his chair and sat down, “Sit.” Legolas did, “What the vampire and I do is none of your concern, ion.” As Legolas made to protest Thranduil raised his hand, “As your King, I can retain such information from you and as Prince it is beyond your authority to demand such knowledge.” Legolas frowned, “However as your father,” Thranduil’s voice and eyes softened, “It is my duty to assure you that all is well and I know what I am doing.”

“Yes, ada.” Legolas said softly.

Thranduil nodded, “It has been brought to my attention,” Thranduil began, deciding to switch the topic, “That one of my elves desires to pay visit to Laketown, Baralinor I believe his name was.”

Legolas looked confused, “Why would he wish to visit Laketown of all places?”

“He is the one whom is not allowed to fight, yes?” Legolas nodded, “The young dancer?” _Yes,_ “The one who coordinates my armies in training?” Legolas confirmed once more, “I do not believe he’s seen much beyond our walls. And I do believe Bard,” Legolas frowned at the name, “Would be glad to give him a tour.”

“Alright,” Said the prince, “Though I fail to see why you choose to inform me of this.”

“You will be going too and you may take one or two more with you.”

Legolas frowned, “Why must I go?”

“I know that your interactions with the vampire are tense, ion. I cannot have discourse between my ally and my people. You will be going and that is final.” Thranduil said firmly. He stood from his chair leaning only slightly on the table and with slow calculated strides went over to his bedside table. He gracefully raised his crown and set it upon his head, “Who am I to expect a report from?”

“Galion probably.”

“And what of Bard?” Questioned the King.

“He has returned to his home.” Stated Legolas plainly, “I will see you at dinner.”

Thranduil hummed as his son left the room, “Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appear to not have an update schedule, so as much as I would like to I am unable to tell you when to expect the next part!  
> #ExpecttheUnexpected  
> Don't slap me! I won't expect it.


End file.
